


Mythril Chef

by banjkazfan, mahbecks



Category: Final Fantasy IX, Final Fantasy XII, Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blind Character, Canon Disabled Character, Chill XV, Competition, Cooking, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, Love, M/M, Masterchef, Personal Growth, Real Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2018-11-19 13:40:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 56,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11314548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/banjkazfan/pseuds/banjkazfan, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mahbecks/pseuds/mahbecks
Summary: It had been nearly two years since the accident that cost Ignis his eyesight and overall, he still felt as if his progress was far too slow for his liking.  He was back in the kitchen, sure, but it wasn't like it was before, and that left Ignis hurting more than the ache of the scar that occasionally still flared up.Then one day, he received a phone call."Hello, Ignis.  My name is Theresa; I’m calling from Masterchef casting.  We saw the tape that your friend sent in, and we’d love to have you come out and compete."Except Ignis didn't send a tape.  He knew Noctis had been recording him for months, but he had no idea thatthiswas why.Thrust into the world of competitive home cooking, can Ignis find his place in the kitchen once more?





	1. Audition Tape

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even remember where this idea came from, but I've been having way too much fun entertaining the idea thus far. Thanks to mahbecks and lucyargentum for encouraging me to go through with it!
> 
> I'm in the process of moving, so please be patient with both this and my other works; I do plan to continue writing!! :)

When the clip started, there was a young man of about 20 on screen.  His vivid blue eyes seemed to light up as he smiled a little and began to speak.

“ _Hey.  Uh.  My name’s Noctis.  So...I’m actually sending this audition tape for my friend.  I can’t cook to save my life._ ”  He seemed a little embarrassed as he chuckled and ran a hand through his hair.  “ _But I couldn’t tell him I was doing this because he’d shut it down and he’d never agree to this.  But the thing is, I_ know _he’s an amazing cook and that he’d be perfect for your show._ ”

A new shot appeared with a different man.  This man was a little older than the other, with tawny brown hair.  The first thing that was clear was that he wore dark sunglasses despite being inside a kitchen.  But noticing that would lead the eye to the scars beneath the lenses, covering a good portion of his face.  Despite this, he was clearly still a very handsome man with a slender jawline and a smile that could rival the sun.

The quality of the Noctis’ voice changed a little as if it were a voiceover rather than live narration.  “ _This is my friend, Ignis Scientia.  He’s been cooking practically since he first learned how to walk, and I would have starved to death at least ten times if he didn’t cook for me._ ”  There was a brief pause.  “ _I’m sure you can tell, but...he’s blind._ ”

The view shifted to more of a close-up of Ignis’ face.  From this angle, the scars were more readily apparent, and the other man seemed to know.  He put his hand up, a tight smile on his face as he tried to put distance between himself and the camera he seemed to sense was there.  “ _He doesn’t like to talk about it, but...he was volunteering at one of our local schools.  He taught the kids how to cook, three times a week after class.  But one day, things went...bad. There was one little kid, Talcott...Ignis was always really fond of him, but he couldn’t cook to save his life.”_ Noctis laughed a little hollowly.   _“Ignis used to say he’d have the kid cooking like a master chef before the class was out.  Talcott tried so hard because he wanted to impress Ignis.  That day...he used too much oil in one of his dishes and it flamed up really bad.  The kitchen caught fire._ ”  The picture changed to an older portrait of Ignis, before the accident.  His face was unmarred and his eyes were a beautiful, bright seafoam, practically glowing as he smiled.  Noctis paused and his swallow was clearly audible.  His voice cracked a little as he continued to recount the story.  “ _The other kids ran out but Talcott got scared and froze.  He probably felt like it was all his fault, but he just couldn’t move.  Ignis ran to grab him, but the fire...well, it hit this big ball of oil on the counter and flared up.  ...Ignis pushed the kid out of the way and took the brunt of it to his face._ ”

The image faded into a video of Ignis carefully loading ingredients into a food processor.  Though his eyes were milky, they were still clearly focused on the task at hand.  His hands moved more deliberately as if to be completely sure what ingredient he was using before placing it delicately into the machine.  Noctis continued to speak over the footage.  “ _That was two years ago, but Ignis hasn’t let it slow him down much.  It...took a long time, but he’s almost back to where he was in the kitchen before the accident._ ”  Another clip played, showing the brunet chopping vegetables with speed that rivaled professional chefs, and clearly he wasn’t nervous about chopping off his own fingers.  He seemed almost content as he listened to the sound of the knife on the board and felt the thickness of the pieces he had cut thus far.  “ _But he doesn’t believe it.  It’s never enough for Iggy.  He beats himself up if something isn’t absolutely perfect and acts like it makes all the progress he’s made so far useless._ ”

A different clip now showed Ignis serving up a beautiful plate of beef stir fry to a tattooed behemoth of a man and leaning in to kiss his forehead as he placed the plate before him with perfect precision.  The other man laughed, the feathers etched into his skin moving with it, pushing his dark hair off of his forehead before leaning up to catch Ignis’ mouth with his own. It was easily the happiest that Ignis had appeared thus far. Whereas in the kitchen he was in his zone, and in previous shots he was clearly uncomfortable with the camera on him, now he seemed almost blissfully unaware as he and this man shared a tender moment.  There was so much intimacy and love in their interactions that one couldn’t help but feel it just by looking at them.

“ _That’s Gladio, his boyfriend and his kitchen assistant.  Gladio’s the only one that Ignis will let help him, and the big guy thinks it’s time for Ignis to_ see _just how far he’s come_.”

The camera lingered on the beautiful plate for a long moment before fading back to Noctis in the same shot as the opening.  “ _Yeah.  So...sorry, I’m sure this is probably not how you do it usually.  But Ignis wouldn’t go for it if he knew, and…_ ”  Noctis blew out a sigh and raked his hand through his hair once more.  “ _This would be really good for him.  And I know he’s good.  I just hope you all agree._ ”

With one last soft smile, the recording ended.

The three casting agents sat in stunned silence for a moment as they looked between each other. Then Theresa smiled, leaning in and looking to the other two.

“Call him,” she said with a smile.  “I think the chefs are going to _love_ this guy.”

…

Ignis _never_ stayed in bed beyond 7 am.  In fact, if he was still in bed at 7, most mornings he was horribly, irrevocably _late_ .  But this particular morning, Gladio had convinced him to stay in bed for _far_ too long.  It was just rounding on noon, and he could feel the warmth of the sun on his face from the nearby window.  Ignis smiled and let himself curl a little closer to Gladio’s sticky body, running his palm up and down the flat planes of his form.

“You really are a bad influence,” he murmured, leaning in to press a kiss behind the other man’s ear.  “I should get up and make us breakfast.”  A chuckle escaped him as he realized just how late it had gotten.  “...or rather, lunch.”

“Mmm.”  Gladio let out a low rumble as he hooked an arm around Ignis’ back and tugged him closer, pressing their hips together once more.  “Make sure it’s got protein.  We’re gonna need the stamina,” he teased.

A soft, genuine laugh snuck up on Ignis before he could stop it.  His hands continued to explore before sliding up to cup Gladio’s face gently.  His thumbs brushed over the scars that he knew so well, tracing down and over the one over Gladio’s left eye.  That one had come from protecting Noctis years back and had ended with Ignis, desperately kneeling across his lover’s torso and pressing his jacket over Gladio’s face, trying to stop him from bleeding out.  His greatest fear had been that Gladio would lose that eye, changing his life irrevocably.

Oh, the irony.

But no.  Ignis wasn’t upset with his lot.  He never regretted saving Talcott that day, and he had become accustomed to life as it was.  In many ways, he was almost back to where he had been before.  His senses were heightened beyond where he could have imagined; he could easily identify which of his friends approached him just based on their footsteps and breathing alone.

And then in many ways, he still had a long way to go.  The other day he had been distracted enough while doing laundry that he had poured in bleach rather than detergent, simply because it had been on the wrong shelf and he hadn’t taken the time to assess the sound of the liquid in the bottle.  Thankfully he had only put in the bleach and hadn’t put in any clothes yet, but he was so _angry_ at himself.  How could he have been so careless?  What if he had actually put clothes in the washer and ruined them?  That would have been a costly error to fix, and it still bothered him even days later.

There were some days that Ignis honestly wanted things to go back to how they were before the accident.  

But it was hard to think about that now with Gladio’s lips kissing along his jaw, beard leaving a pleasant burn as he made his way.

It was _really_ hard to think about that when the ringing of his phone tore his attention away.  The phone read out the phone number to alert Ignis to who was calling.  “ _Call from: 310-000-0000_ ”

“Hm?”  Gladio hummed against Ignis’ skin, sounding mildly annoyed at being interrupted.  “Who d’you know from California?”

Ignis frowned as he reached for the phone.  “Nobody that I’m aware of.  Perhaps it’s important.”  He closed his hand around the device and playfully gave Gladio a gentle swat on the rear.  “Hold off for a moment; I should take this.”  He opened the flip-phone and lifted it to his ear.  “Hello?  This is Ignis.”

“ _Hello, Ignis._ ”  A warm female voice greeted him.  “ _My name is Theresa; I’m calling from Masterchef casting.  We saw the tape that your friend sent in, and we’d love to have you come out and compete._ ”

The phone nearly dropped from Ignis’ fingers.  “I beg your pardon,” he said carefully.  “...but there must be some sort of mistake.  I never created a tape.  I have no idea to what you are referring.”

With a kind demeanor, Theresa briefly summarized the contents of the tape that Noctis had sent in on Ignis’ behalf.  Gladio was close enough that he could hear and had shifted into a sitting position, eyes wide as he listened.  He knew that Noctis had been recording Ignis for the past few months as he cooked, had mentioned the idea in passing, but he had never expected the young man to follow through.  Noctis often wasn’t terribly driven, but…

Gladio smiled a little.  Seemed like Noctis’ drive was different when it had to do with his friends.  He felt warm and decided maybe he should go give Noctis a good-natured elbow to the side for his stunt, later.

“ _You can think about it, of course,_ ” Theresa said.  “ _But we would love to have you compete.  We think that the chefs will love you.  Your passion, your warmth, and your compassion are something that will really carry you far - if not in Masterchef, then in your own life.  Let me give you my number.  If you choose to come out, call me and we’ll help arrange the final details._ ”  She rattled off a number different from the one that had called his phone; clearly that number was a switchboard of sorts and not a direct line.

Ignis dazedly thanked Theresa for her time before hanging up, setting the phone back down on the nightstand before turning to Gladio.  “You heard all of that, I assume,” he said quietly.

“Mmhm.”  Gladio slid an arm around his waist and pulled Ignis back down to the covers.  He had his own thoughts on the matter, but he didn’t want to push Ignis one way or the other; he wanted the man to make his own decisions.  “It’s a lot to think about, huh?”

“Indeed.”  Ignis laughed dryly and settled in against Gladio.  “I can’t believe that Noctis did this.  I knew that he’d been recording me for months, but I had no idea just _why_.  He managed to keep it a secret.”  He traced a hand up and over Gladio’s chest.  “You knew.”  It was a statement rather than a question and Gladio knew that he couldn’t argue.

“Yeah,” he agreed softly.  “I did.  I knew he wanted to; didn’t think he’d actually follow through.”  Gladio ran a gentle hand up and down Ignis’ back.  “But we both thought it’d be a good opportunity for you.”

Ignis considered this quietly.  Part of him was more than a little impressed that they’d lived together for so long and yet Gladio had managed to keep this a secret from him, but part of him was unsure about the opportunity.  Was it really a good idea?  He knew about the “magic” of television editing; some hapless editor could take the chance to make a fool out of him or to play up his “tragic backstory”.  That was what drove him insane about Gordon Ramsay’s American Kitchen Nightmares: it was more focused on the sob stories of the owners and the shouting arguments rather than the food and how to improve the restaurant.  But he knew that was the editors rather than Chef Ramsay, and he feared that the same would happen to him.

That was assuming he was even cleared to compete.  He would have to win the white apron to continue in the Masterchef kitchen, and he wasn’t confident that he could do that at his current skill level.  Ignis was good, but was he _Masterchef_ good?  Especially after losing his vision?

But he could feel Gladio breathing against him, holding him close and quietly waiting while Ignis thought.  Noctis and Gladio had gone to all the trouble of trying to arrange this to help Ignis; he knew that.  He knew that they weren’t out to humiliate him.  They were encouraging him because they thought that he could do it.

Ignis’ fingers traced over the lines of Gladio’s tattoos, feeling some places where the ink was raised as he thought.  He waited a breath too long, however, and Gladio exhaled softly.

“Sorry, Iggy,” he finally said.  “We shouldn’t have pushed it.  You don’t have to do this, alright?”

Ignis smiled fondly, helplessly, as he moved to cup Gladio’s face in his hands.  To hell with his fears.  He had faced down a flaming kitchen before without blinking an eye.  Throwing himself into the fray like this would be nothing too insurmountable.  And if nothing else, he would be able to learn more under the tutelage of the chefs themselves.  Perhaps it really would be a good benchmark for just how far he’d come.  Ignis chuckled and leaned in, pressing a firm kiss to Gladio’s lips.

“Don’t apologize,” he murmured.  “And I am well aware that I do not _have_ to do anything.  However…”  He touched his forehead to Gladio’s and his smile grew.  “This is something that I _want_ to do.”

“Really?”  Even without his vision, Ignis could still clearly imagine the grin on Gladio’s face.  “You’re gonna go for it?”

“I am.”  His excitement was infectious; Ignis couldn’t help but laugh in return.  “I believe that you’re more eager than me.”

“You love cooking,” Gladio said simply.  “And now you’re getting into it in one _hell_ of a way.  Why wouldn’t I be?”  He surged forward and pressed his lips firmly to Ignis’, shifting against him and laughing against Ignis’ mouth.

“I’ll admit to being rather excited myself.”  Ignis gladly returned the kisses but did put some distance between them when Gladio made to take things a bit further.  It wouldn’t do to get distracted and forget an important step.  “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a phone call to return.”


	2. Intimate Details

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignis hammers out the details of his travel, and an unfortunate happening rears its head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops, this chapter devolved into smut pretty damn quickly. Sorry?
> 
> I've done some research into how Masterchef auditions work and I'm well aware that what I've written does not entirely line up. For the ease of the story, I've modified it and I hope that it doesn't bother anyone too much!

The rest of the details were hammered out with relative ease once the initial phone call had been made.  The flight was arranged - he would leave in a week’s time - as was the hotel.  

“ _You’ll be away filming for about...two months, assuming that you go all the way._ ”  Theresa was all business, quickly rattling things off.  “ _Now, we can provide you with a guide for the pantry and the kitchen, Ignis.  This guide will_ only _be able to help you by handing you ingredients you ask for and other simple things.  They will not be able to cut for you, taste for you, anything like that._ ”

“I prefer to work independently anyways,” Ignis returned pleasantly.

Gladio interrupted at this point, frowning a little.  “Wait a second.  Can’t I be his guide?  I’m the one who always helps him at home, if he asks me for it.  He doesn’t even want my help half the time.”  His words tumbled out too quickly as he tried to defend himself and he forced a chuckle because it suddenly occurred to him that Ignis could potentially be gone for two months.  It hadn’t even really occurred to him that he might not be allowed to join, as naive as he knew that made him.

Theresa was patient as she spoke.  “ _I’m sorry, Gladio.  It would give Ignis an unfair advantage if you were the one to help him. He would have an extra level of emotional support that the others wouldn't have.”_ But her voice was still kind.  “ _Of course you're welcome to be present for the white apron challenge.  But you'll have to leave after that, if Ignis is cast._ ”

Gladio pressed his lips together.  Dammit.  He didn't like knowing that they would have to be separated - because to him there was no doubt that Ignis would win his white apron.  He was too good _not_ to.

Gladio and Ignis had been dating for nearly five years now.  They'd each had their own lives and lived independently despite moving in together after a year and a half.  That had always been important to them both: standing together and yet alone, not drinking from the same cup but sharing their own cup with the other.

But ever since Ignis’ accident, they had relied more on each other.  Gladio had tried to be more present for Ignis, offering help as it was needed.  At first, he had tried too much and pushed too hard and they had argued about it frequently.  Ignis had refused all offers of help, preferring to push himself to the brink of failure and exhaustion.

They'd had to create a balance.  Ignis needed to learn how to ask for help and Gladio had to learn how to strategically offer that help.  After much time, arguing, and patience, they had finally settled on a suitable compromise that left both of them mostly satisfied: Ignis would attempt for a while, and if he got to a point where he honestly could not move forward, he would ask for help.  It let him keep his pride while still learning things again, and it kept Gladio from hovering too much but still be available when his help was needed.  Gladio learned to back off, and Ignis learned how to seek help.  There were still bumps, of course, but overall it gave them a far better understanding of each other that they could live with.

But that still brought them to this present moment.  Gladio could see the tense set to Ignis’ shoulders and he cursed his luck that he was not able to go along.  This meant that Ignis would be relying on someone that he did not know and could not trust the same way he did Gladio, and Gladio briefly wondered if that by itself would put him at a disadvantage.

No.  He knew Ignis.  The other man would pull through and outshine them all no matter what was thrown at him.

“I understand,” Ignis said.  “I can accept those terms.”

They hammered out a few more details before bidding each other farewell.  Once Ignis closed the phone, he exhaled softly and turned to Gladio.

“You’re dissatisfied,” he said after a long moment.

Gladio exhaled before laughing ruefully.  “A bit,” he admitted.  “Guess it never occurred to me that I wouldn’t be allowed to go with you.”

“It’s hardly a fair competition if I’m allowed a guide with whom I am _intimately_ familiar,” Ignis reminded him softly, reaching up to touch his face.  “As much as I would rather have you by my side, I do understand the rules.”

He sighed but nodded, reaching up to touch Ignis’ chin.  “I know,” he said.   “Me too.  And I am _not_ gonna mess this up for you.  If they need me to stay away for you to win?  Then I’ll stay away.”  He paused briefly.  “Much as I’m gonna _hate_ sleepin’ alone again.”

Ignis laughed softly.  “Well, what about Tribble?  I’m sure that she’ll be happy to keep my spot warm for you.”

As if hearing her name, the cat lifted her head and chirped sleepily from her spot on Gladio’s pillow.  She had become a little chubby in the last few years, but her favorite place to sleep was still between her two owners, wedging them apart.  She was frequently a cockblock, too, Ignis privately groused.

“Yeah, but Tribble doesn’t keep me warm the way you do,” Gladio chuckled.  “But it’s fine.  When you come home, you’re gonna be a _Masterchef_.  Think I can deal with sleeping with the cat for a few months.”

It suddenly hit Ignis that he was going to be _gone_ from his home for possibly some time - up to two months, assuming he went the whole way.  Ignis tried not to think about the possibility that he would be turned away instantly by losing his white apron battle - no, he couldn’t think like that.  It was also entirely possible that he would go the entire way…

Well, he probably shouldn’t get ahead of himself in that regard.

“There’s so much to do,” he said aloud.  “I need to make arrangements for work - ”

For years, Ignis had acted as an adviser to Noctis’ father Regis, the head of Eos Enterprises.  Noctis himself was poised to take over the company within the next few years, but he still had a lot of growing to do - that was where Ignis came in.  Even after his accident, Ignis had barely taken time off of work; Regis had come into the hospital to visit him and had _ordered_ Ignis to take time off.

Well.  It was hard to refuse a direct order from your boss, wasn’t it?

“You know Noct is gonna butter his dad up to get you out of it,” Gladio laughed.  “He was the one to set it all up.  He’s the one who’s gonna take the heat for you being away, not you.”  He slid an arm around Ignis and smiled.  “Besides.  Maybe it’s time to let him fly solo for a bit; see how he does.”

Privately Ignis agreed, though he was still hesitant.  He feared that his teachings the past two years, since his accident, had not been enough for Noctis.  (Gladio had once pointed out that Ignis _always_ wondered whether or not he was doing enough and that this was no different.  Ignis had been grouchy over that one, though had later begrudgingly admitted that Gladio was right.)  Noctis was still reluctant to take on more strenuous duties - Ignis suspected that this stemmed from the younger man’s own insecurities and the waning health of his father - but there were times that he showed surprising maturity and seemed very nearly ready to take over.  Maybe it was indeed time to give him some space.

It seemed that his journey was going to be one of growth for more than just him.

Ignis’ train of thought was thoroughly derailed when he felt Gladio’s lips press against the skin behind his ear and his hot breath against his skin.  “Don’t worry about work right now,” he whispered.  “Think about it tomorrow when you go in.  Tonight…”  He slid his broad palms up Ignis’ shirt and tugged him closer.  “...I wanna celebrate with you.”  His lips kissed a gentle trail down Ignis’ throat before settling at his collarbone and nipping gently.

Ignis laughed a little breathlessly and arched almost instinctively into the touch.  “Celebrate?” he repeated.  “There’s hardly anything to celebrate, Gla - _ah!_ ”  He gasped when the other man surprised him by lightly tweaking his nipple through the fabric of his shirt.  “It isn’t as if I’ve - _d-done_ anything yet,” he protested feebly.

“Call it a good-luck fuck, then,” Gladio chuckled.  Ignis was _sorely_ tempted to push him aside for the _terrible_ choice of words, but Gladio seemed to know that his annoyance was coming and headed it off by pressing his hand between Ignis’ legs and cupping him with enough pressure to stir interest in his cock.   _Dammit_ , he wanted to be annoyed, but it was near-impossible when the rest of his body clearly hadn’t gotten the message.  His head dropped back and a soft groan slipped out as Gladio made to lay him back on the bed.

“You’re insatiable,” Ignis laughed breathlessly as he felt Gladio clamber up and over his hips.

“Yeah,” Gladio agreed easily.  “But you love it.”  His hands rubbed gentle circles into Ignis’ hips as he leaned down to capture his lips again.  The kiss deepened as Ignis lifted his head to press harder into him, and Gladio slid his hands down to tug Ignis closer, pushing their groins together.  The larger man let it continue for a long moment, rocking down and kissing deeply, drawing soft noises out of his partner, before he leaned down to whisper into Ignis’ ear.  “Let me take care of you,” he murmured.  “Think you’re gonna need all the stress relief you can get going into this.”

Ignis wanted to argue, to speak up about just how _much_ there was to do before he left, but it was too difficult to summon the gumption to do so as Gladio continued to lovingly caress his cock.  His head dropped to the side, mouth going slack against the sheets at one brush of fabric over the sensitive tip, and he nodded helplessly.  “Please,” he whispered.

A warm smile spread Gladio’s face as he undid Ignis’ pants with delicacy and grace.  “Don’t worry,” he whispered softly.  “I got you.  I’m gonna take care of you; make you feel good.”  Slowly he peeled the fabric down Ignis’ legs, caressing and pressing kisses to freshly-exposed skin.  Gladio hummed as he gently kissed the inseam of Ignis’ thigh, feeling the other tremble under him.  As his mouth moved closer to where he could tell Ignis wanted it most, Gladio moved his hands up to push up and under the loose t-shirt that Ignis wore.

Ignis arched his back and moaned softly, his hands fluttering down to pet at Gladio’s hair.  The arch of his spine allowed the larger man to slip his hands further along his body, and he let out a shuddering gasp.  “Gladio,” he murmured, trying not to thread his fingers in Gladio’s hair and use it to guide him where he wanted.  “Don’t tease…”

Teasing was one of Gladio’s favorite things to do to Ignis - he loved to absolutely take him apart, making Ignis shake and writhe and beg for it, holding him right on that edge, but tonight he wasn’t planning to make him wait.  He could tell that Ignis needed it and was ready to indulge him.  “Just hold on, gorgeous.”  He smiled against Ignis’ skin and glanced up from between his legs, feeling warmth when he saw Ignis’ cheeks flushed pink.  Gladio knew that Ignis was still a little self-conscious about his scars - not nearly as much as he was after the accident, but still once in a while the old insecurities flared up.  Times like these, one of Gladio’s favorite things to do was to absolutely worship Ignis, ensuring that there was no doubt as to how handsome Gladio still found him.  He would press gentle kisses to the scars while wrapping a firm hand around Ignis, stroking him to completion while whispering all sorts of praises against his sweat-damp skin.

Tonight would be similar.  Gladio smiled lovingly and slipped his hand into Ignis’ underwear, closing his hand around his cock and beginning to rub gently.  “You look so good like this,” he praised.  Ignis’ breath shuddered and his hips instinctively bucked into the slow rhythm that Gladio set to start.  “Fucking _stunning_.”

“Gladio,” Ignis breathed out, head knocking back against the bed below.  “Ah…”

“But…”  Gladio broke off to chuckle and rub his palm against the sensitive tip of Ignis’ cock, making the other man’s mouth drop open as a helpless shudder ran through him.  Gladio privately drank in every sensation before him, committing it to memory.  He knew that with all the stress upcoming for Ignis, they weren’t likely to get another moment like this for a _while_ and he was determined to make it as good as possible for Ignis.  “You look even better when I do _this_.”  In one mostly-fluid movement, Gladio shifted down the bed, slid Ignis’ underwear down and off, and closed his mouth around Ignis, his hands moving to grip Ignis’ ass to help pull him in deeper.

“ _Gods!_ ”  Ignis’ voice was knocked out of him with one helpless breath and he desperately tried to still his hips.  “ _Gladio!_ ”

He was tempted to make a comment, but that would require pulling off and Gladio wasn’t going to do that right now.  He wanted to make Ignis come completely undone beneath him so he applied every trick that he could think of.  He slid Ignis as far into his mouth as he could, holding there and breathing through his nose to start.  He started to feel that telltale burning in the back of his throat, so Gladio breathed through it and swallowed around Ignis.

“ _A-aah!_ ”  Gladio could hear the sheets pulling under Ignis’ tight fingers as the man below him tried to resist bucking up despite the frenzied cries slipping out.  But Gladio squeezed Ignis’ ass and pressed up a little, encouraging him to start a rhythm.  He let his eyes drift closed, focused entirely on the heat and weight of Ignis against his tongue and the smooth skin against his hands.  Muscles tensed against his fingers as Ignis finally succumbed and began to give into the rhythm, pushing himself up and into the delicious warmth of Gladio’s mouth.

Ignis’ breath had just started to turn ragged as Gladio slid his lips along his length when his thighs began to tremble with impending orgasm.  He reached down and pushed at Gladio’s shoulder desperately, trying to get him to stop.  “Gladio,” he breathed.  “H-hold on, stop.”

A little surprised, Gladio grunted against his skin before pulling back with one last lick to the sensitive tip and wiping his mouth with his hand.  “Something wrong?” he murmured, eyes flicking up and down the beautiful length of Ignis’ body.

Ignis shook his head almost frantically.  “No,” he gasped out.  “But...I don’t know when we’ll be able to be intimate again; there’s only a week before I must leave.”  His hands reached out, finding Gladio and sliding down to grip him firmly and tug him up.  “I want you inside of me.”

Well, _fuck_ .  That plea alone sent a message directly to Gladio’s cock.  One hand flew down to grip the base of his cock, his head dropping back between his shoulders.  Like _fuck_ he was gonna argue with that.

“Alright,” he agreed hoarsely, leaning over and pressing himself to Ignis as he reached into the bedside table.  Tribble had moved to sit on top of the table, cracking an annoyed eye as Gladio accidentally jostled her in his attempt to get the lube and condoms out.  “Well, don’t sit there if you don’t like it,” he grumbled at her, and Ignis laughed breathlessly below him.

“You could always put her in the bathroom,” he murmured.

“Nah.”  Gladio dropped the items before running broad palms down Ignis’ body.  “That would mean I’d have to get up and I don’t think you want me to do that right now.  ‘S’long as she stays off the bed, I don’t really care at this point.”  Deciding he’d rather not think about the cat as he tried to have sex, Gladio quickly slicked up his fingers and began to circle them around Ignis’ hole, occasionally letting them slip over the ridged skin and making his breath catch.  When Ignis seemed to tire of the teasing, Gladio finally let one finger sink in slowly, leaning down to capture Ignis’ mouth and swallow all of his desperate little noises.  He rocked that finger back and forth, pressing against Ignis’ prostate every few passes just to make him squirm, and pretty quickly he was able to add a second finger, and then a third.

After a long few drawn-out minutes of stretching and preparing, Ignis’ hand slapped down onto the sheets, finding the condom unerringly.  His hands shook slightly as he tore the packet and reached down between Gladio’s legs to find his own neglected cock.  Gladio hissed in pleasure as Ignis massaged the tip before quickly rolling the condom down his aching length.  Once Ignis released him, Gladio quickly rubbed the remaining lube over himself before kneeling over Ignis and lining himself up.

“Fuck,” Gladio breathed, his head dropping back as he began to press in.  “You feel so _fucking good_ , Ignis…”

Ignis wanted to reply but the achingly slow slide knocked the words out of him and all he could do was grip at Gladio desperately.  Once Gladio was completely seated, Ignis barely managed to suck in a breath and speak.  “Gladio,” he moaned.  “Please, tell me…!”

He couldn’t even finish the thought, but Gladio knew.  One thing that had changed since his accident was that Ignis relied more heavily on auditory descriptions of what happened during sex.  Of course he could feel it, but he could no longer see to take in the sensations that he loved so much.  He needed to hear just how Gladio looked, what the other man felt, and what he wanted.  They had adapted and become far more vocal together to great returns.  Though it occasionally made him feel a touch selfish to so openly describe his own pleasure, Gladio knew what it was that Ignis wanted and he agreed as he began to set a moderate tempo.

“Yeah, baby, I can do that,” he growled lowly.  “You want to hear about how hot and tight you are around me?”  He openly smirked as his words made Ignis shudder beneath him.  “Nah, I think you’d rather I tell you how I look rocking into you, wouldn’t you?”

Ignis arched as one particularly firm thrust slammed into his prostate, tightening slightly around Gladio.  “ _Gods!_ ” he cried out.  “Love, y-you feel so _wonderful_ \- ”

Gladio could feel that Ignis was close, so he closed a firm hand around him and stroked in time to his thrusts.  “Love watching me push into you like this; it’s like you’re made for me the way you feel around me…”  He swallowed and panted harshly, knowing that he was about to fall over the edge as well.  “Can you feel me?”  Gladio thrust all the way in and pulsed, knowing that Ignis had indeed felt it based on the way he responded.

Ignis arched his back, his legs locking around Gladio’s waist as he cried out.  That final throb against his prostate finally let him come, his thighs trembling violently as he threw his head back and bared his throat for Gladio.  His arms were stretched over his head and his taut stomach quivered as he spurted hot over Gladio’s hand and his own abdomen.  It seemed to go on forever, his body locked tight and helpless as he just shivered his way through the pleasure.  And oh, gods, the way Gladio groaned desperately as he finally released as well was just too much.  Ignis’ muscles tightening around him dragged Gladio’s own orgasm out of him, every pulse of cum practically burning Ignis from the inside out in the best possible way.

After a long moment, they both practically collapsed against the blankets, Gladio’s voice ragged and throaty as he leaned in to gently touch Ignis’ face.  “Better?” he asked softly, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to Ignis’ scarred eyelid.

“Much,” Ignis agreed hoarsely, closing his better eye against Gladio’s tender touches.  Though it had taken a while, Gladio no longer treated him as if he were made of glass, for which Ignis was grateful.  That said, he still loved the gentle moments where Gladio touched him so softly, like he was the most precious thing in the world.  “Thank you…”

“‘Course.”  Gladio smiled and tucked Ignis’ face against his chest, ignoring the sticky cum cooling between them.  They could shower soon enough.  “You’re gonna be amazing, you know.”  A hand petted through Ignis’ hair tenderly.  “And you know that we’re all gonna be rooting for you.”

“I know that I have all of you behind me.”  Ignis smiled a little in return, his hand tracing delicately over Gladio’s face.  Though he still remembered Gladio’s face clearly, he liked to occasionally update his mental picture.  Today he found a bit of stubble growing back in and he chuckled a little.  Perhaps Gladio was planning to let it become a full beard this time.  “And I will endeavor not to let you all down.”

Gladio cut off his train of thought with a firm kiss.  “You’re _not_ gonna let us down no matter how it goes,” he said firmly.  “The fact that you’re even getting out there is amazing, Iggy.  We’re all proud of you.”

Ignis wanted to argue once more that he actually hadn’t _done_ anything yet, but how could he with the weight of Gladio’s earnest stare?  Though he could not see it, he could _feel_ it and he let the matter drop.  “Thank you,” was all he said instead.

There was still so much to do to prepare.  But he supposed that it could wait as he basked in the afterglow a while longer.


	3. Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's almost time to travel for the White Apron Challenge, but will everyone get to join in? And what happens when a producer seems hell-bent on playing up Ignis' "tragic backstory"?

The next week was a blur for them.

Ignis had managed to secure the time off with Regis without too much trouble.  The older man seemed a little exasperated that he would be without his adviser for a while, but his ire was turned entirely to his son.  For Ignis?  He was just pleased to see that the man was going to be entering the competition.  “Your job will be here when you return,” Regis said warmly.  “Know that we will all be cheering for you, Ignis.” 

“Thank you, Sir.”  Ignis smiled and inclined his head in the direction of the CEO’s voice.  He was just pleased that things had been easier than he could have hoped for.  He knew that many other places would not have saved his job for so long.

Noctis, on the other hand…

“Dad, I want to go to the challenge with him,” he argued privately one evening after work was finished.  “I know I’ll be covering for Ignis while he’s gone, but I want to be there for him.”

Regis sighed as he considered this.  “Noctis...though I do not disapprove of what you have done for Ignis, you have, in fact, made my life for the next few months a little more difficult.  I do not know that it would be wise to allow you to leave during such a difficult time.”

“Dad.”  Noctis’ eyes practically burned as he stared him down.  “I want to be there to see it when Ignis gets his apron.  You and I both know that he works harder than  _ anyone _ here.”  The young man flushed a little as he suddenly realized that he was implying that Ignis worked harder than Regis and he pushed on before that thought could really sink in.  “He definitely works harder than me.  He’s selfless.  He always puts others first.  But now...now it looks like he’s gonna do something that’s for just  _ him _ .  And I want to be there to see it.  He’s really helped whip me into shape since he started here, and I want to see him be happy.  I’ll come home as soon as the challenge is over; I don’t care if I have to fly back at 2 AM.”  He spread his arms apart as he pressed his lips together.  “I’ll pay for it myself.  I still have that money I’ve been saving.”

Regis inclined his head slightly at that.  “Were you not saving that for the new game system that you saw?  You’ve talked of little else recently with your friend Prompto.”

Noctis shrugged and glanced away.  “It’s fine; I can get that any other time.  I want to be there for Ignis.”

The man barely managed to conceal his warm smile as he listened to his son.  Honestly, he’d been sold just hearing Noctis say such kind things about Ignis and how he had helped Noctis, but hearing how selfless his son was being in this moment made Regis more sure of his decision.

“You will fly out for the audition and return that evening.  If the cost is exorbitant, I will assist you.  If the only available flight is late...then that is your problem that you must deal with accordingly.”  He lowered his gaze and took to adjusting his papers in an attempt to keep his smile from showing.  “Am I clear, Noctis?” 

But Noctis knew his father’s tells all too well and he knew that he’d been forgiven for taking away one of his best workers.  “Crystal,” he offered with a smile.  Regis caught his eye then and couldn’t manage to hide his smile any longer at the sight of his son’s grin.

Noctis had a good heart, and it always made him proud to see it in action. 

…

The week seemed to pass too quickly for Ignis; there was still so much that he needed to do, it seemed.  But thankfully the others had all pitched in their own ways to help.   

(“I promise I’ll take care of your orchid, Ignis!  Gladdy will probably forget about it.”  

“I will _not,_ Iris!”  

“Who’s gonna feed Tribble while you’re gone?  I can do it!  I love animals.”

“For fuck’s sake, Prompto; Tribble is _my cat_ _!_ ” 

“You’re all very kind, but I am aware that Gladio is competent.  I trust him to be able to hold down the fort while I’m away.  He  _ did  _ live on his own before I met him, you realize.”

Gladio wanted to pull him aside and kiss him for that, and did so later.) 

But finally, the day arrived.  Their flight left at an  _ obscenely  _ early hour, though the way Prompto exuberantly carried on you’d never be able to tell.

“I can’t believe you’re gonna be on a cooking show!” he crowed.  “I know you’re good, Iggy, but I didn’t realize you were  _ that _ good!”  His shouting turned a few heads in their direction, of course, but Ignis was far less self-conscious about stares than he used to be.  He was rather used to the appearance of a blind, scarred man with a long cane drawing attention; what difference did a shouting young blond man really make?

A small, unfiltered chuckle slipped out.  “Well,” Ignis said with a slight smile as they called for their flight to begin boarding, “I suppose we’ll see, won’t we?” 

The flight wasn’t too long, only a few hours.  But it was long enough to let Ignis consider the possibilities.  He had no idea what sort of dish he’d be challenged to make and was internally running over all sorts of different recipes in his head.  Would it be fish?  Risotto?  Something else?  There were hundreds - possibly thousands - of different dishes that he could be called to make.  How could he make sure that the  _ one _ assigned was perfect?

He started when a hand laid on his shoulder.  Gladio’s warm palm pressed against him, trying to help him settle.  “Hey,” Gladio murmured against his ear.  “You’re jittery.  You doin’ okay?” 

Ignis exhaled slowly, lowering his own voice so as not to wake Noctis, who was sleeping just across the aisle.  “I am fine,” he confirmed softly.  “I simply have a lot on my mind.”

“Yeah, I figured.”  Gladio pressed a gentle kiss to his temple.  “You gonna try and sleep at all?  I doubt you slept last night.” 

Ignis tried to protest that he was fine, that he was perfectly able to run on four hours of sleep, but almost as if on cue he tried and failed to smother a yawn.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”  Gladio chuckled softly and tapped his chest.  “C’mon.  We’re not gonna land for another two hours at least.  You need more rest.”  He hooked a gentle arm around Ignis’ shoulders and tugged him in, shifting in his seat so that Ignis could lay against him. 

“Gladio, this is hardly becoming,” Ignis mumbled even as he let himself be moved.  “We’re practically in public.”

“Shh.  Nobody’s watchin’ us.”  Gladio curled his hand around the back of Ignis’ neck.  “Close your eyes.  I’ll let you know when we’re landing.” 

The gentle pressure of Gladio’s hand against his skin and his breath against his ear lulled Ignis into a state of calm.  He tilted his head a little, fitting himself a little more snugly against Gladio, and his eyes slid shut.  Maybe it wouldn’t hurt for him to just...rest a little more…

Gladio smiled a little when he realized that his lover was already out like a light.  He hadn’t seen Ignis sleep this  _ hard _ in a while.  A tiny chuckle slipped out when he realized that Ignis had drooled a little on his jacket, but he wiped it off quickly and quietly before Ignis could wake up and realize what had happened.  The last thing he wanted was for Ignis to be embarrassed and have it throw him off his game.  He was tempted to doze off himself, but he’d promised Ignis to let him know when they were about to land.  He could stay awake for a while longer.

… 

By the time they’d landed at 6 AM, everyone was starting to feel the excitement and the jitters that Ignis had felt on the way over.  Noctis’ shoulders crept a little higher than usual, clearly a little ill at ease around all the noise of the airport.  Prompto’s warm hand on his back brought him back to the moment and Noctis remembered why he had wanted to be there in the first place.

There was a cab waiting outside the airport for them, which Prompto found pretty exciting.  Despite the initial burst of glee, it still took them a while to arrive to the filming location.  And when they arrived, there were already plenty of people waiting. 

Prompto bounced from foot to foot, his nerves clearly already showing.  He glanced nervously around at the gaggle of people gathering and having casual conversation around them.  Prompto turned to Ignis, biting his lip.  These people all looked _intense_.  But Ignis seemed content as he smiled back at Prompto, seeming to sense the younger man’s gaze.  

“You act as if you’re the one competing, Prompto, for how nervous you are.”  Ignis smiled.  “Do they seem formidable?”

“ _So_ crazy!”  Prompto looked around again before suddenly realizing that he was being teased.  “Oh.  Uh.  Not that they’re gonna beat you!” he quickly elaborated.  He suddenly lowered his voice and got a little closer.  “A couple of ‘em are staring at you, though,” Prompto whispered.  “You, uh...want me to tell ‘em to knock it off?”  

Ignis’ smile turned a little fond.  Prompto was a fine young man.  He was exuberant and occasionally put his foot in his mouth when speaking, but his heart was good and he meant well.  “Thank you, but it’s alright,” Ignis murmured in turn.  “I am quite used to it after all, and I admit that I make an unusual sight.  They may stare if they wish, and they may approach if they wish.  It matters not to me.”

He rubbed his thumb over the raised number on the slip of paper in his hands.  The coordinators had been kind enough to make sure that he got a proper braille number that he could determine by touch.  His number was 8; likely he was going to be paired up with whoever had the other number 8. 

The group didn’t have much time to look around before someone came out with a headset, perkily explaining how filming would work.  As Ignis suspected, contestants would be paired up based on their numbers.  Their numbers would be called and they would approach the doors, pausing to wave to the cameras and their supporters, before heading inside.  Once they arrived, they would be given their assigned dish.  They would have five minutes to shop in the pantry for what they needed before being given time to cook.  The cooking time would depend on the dish; desserts would be given more time, for example, as they often took longer to set.  Most dishes would, on average, be given an hour.  She also warned the contestants that many of them would be approached to give their stories to the camera. 

“Now,” she called excitedly.  “Who’s ready to become the next Masterchef?”

A cheer of excitement rose up from the crowd.  Clearly every single one of them was ready and thought that they would be the next winner. 

But as Gladio roared his own enthusiasm, he knew that they were all wrong.  The only winner was the one standing right next to him, letting out a rare yell of elation.  Gladio laughed in turn, slinging his arm around Ignis and pressing a kiss to his temple.  Ignis laughed, seemingly invigorated by the energetic spirit around him, and his smile was blinding.

Things began to pick up after that.  Numbers were called and people began to compete.  There was quite some time before Ignis would be called to compete, so he and the others found a spot to settle in and wait.  They talked quietly amongst themselves and played King’s Knight for a while, trying to entertain themselves until it was Ignis’ turn.   

After an hour, a new presence approached them.  Ignis glanced up, his eyes fixing on the newcomer out of habit.  He stood as if to greet them and smiled slightly.  But before he could speak, the other person spoke first.

“Are you Ignis Scientia?”  The voice belonged to a woman, and it was warm and friendly.  When he confirmed his identity, Ignis could practically hear her smile.  “My name is Monica Elshett,” she greeted him.  “I’m going to be your guide in the Masterchef kitchen.” 

Gladio quickly sized her up as the others all introduced themselves.  She seemed friendly enough, and to his surprise was older than the rest of them, likely middle-aged.  Her short hair framed her face, and the natural color was somewhere between grey and brown, contrasting with her striking dark eyes.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Monica.”  Ignis inclined his head towards her politely.  He reached out, finding her hand based on her voice and approximating her height from there, and shook her hand firmly.  “I appreciate any help you’ll be able to provide.” 

Monica smiled in return.  “I’ll be able to walk you through the pantry and hand you any ingredients you ask for.  I can also help confirm that you have ovens and such on the right setting if you ask, and tell you what’s under your mystery boxes.  I can’t do any actual cutting or anything else like that for you, though.  But I’ve been a mobility guide for a number of years and I think we’ll get along well.”  
  
Gladio was quietly impressed by her matter-of-fact demeanor; he knew that it was something Ignis would appreciate in turn.  And if her credentials were what she said, she really knew what she was doing.  His stomach unclenched a little at the thought of leaving Ignis with her.  She seemed capable and he felt like he could trust her. 

They talked for a few more minutes to determine some of the details necessary - how much Ignis could actually see (“I can sense light to a degree, though I cannot see much else”), how he preferred to be guided (“Though the cane does the brunt of the work as I walk, taking your arm as we go to the pantry would be helpful if you’ll allow it”), and other things of that nature.  After a little more discussion, Monica nodded as she stood.

“Alright,” she said.  “I think I have a pretty good picture of how we’ll be working together, Ignis.  You’re number 8, correct?  They’ll be calling you soon enough.”   

“I’m looking forward to working with you,” Ignis said, his voice friendly.  “I hope we’ll go far together.” 

Monica smiled, agreed, and excused herself, leaving the four friends alone again.

“I think she’s gonna be a pretty good fit for you, Ignis,” Noctis said as he watched her leave. 

Prompto agreed.  “Yeah, she’s got that ‘warm but businesslike’ demeanor goin’ on.  Kinda reminds me of you.”

Ignis chuckled to himself and settled back.  “I suppose I can see that,” he said.  “Regardless, I do think she will help me in an unfamiliar kitchen.  I am in her hands.” 

Gladio couldn’t help the little pang he felt.  He knew that Ignis was in good hands with Monica, but he was also pretty sure that Ignis was unsettled at having to trust someone that he didn’t really know.  Gladio knew that  _ he _ was unsettled by it.  Again he wished that he was able to help, but there was that little voice in the back of his mind that sounded a lot like his sister reminding him that he and Ignis occasionally needed space from each other in order to grow.

But.  That had been good of Monica to come over and introduce herself.  She hadn’t had to do that.  He was sure that she would be fine for Ignis.  Now, if only Gladio could banish his own nerves. 

They passed the hours just chatting quietly, playing on their phones, or sitting together in silence.  The best part about their camaraderie was that they didn’t need to speak every second that they were together.  They were comfortable enough to enjoy the silence together. 

They had just called number seven to compete when Ignis sensed someone else approach them.  Gladio looked up from his phone and noticed the cameraman stepping closer.  A different producer from earlier was there, smiling as she approached and adjusted her headset.  “Excuse me,” she called.  “You’re number eight, correct?”  Ignis nodded and she continued.  “Wonderful.  We’re going to steal you for a few minutes to get some footage before you go in.  We’ve been filming everyone, of course, but we want to get some interview footage first.”  She hesitated for only a moment before offering her arm.  “Do you, ah, need help?”  Clearly she wasn’t sure if it was alright to ask, but was trying to be polite rather than condescending, so Ignis smiled at her and stood.

“If you can point me in a general direction, that should be sufficient,” he said. 

The producer relaxed slightly before looking over the group.  “We’ll be back to talk to the rest of you shortly,” she promised.  “Think about things you might want to say when we interview you!”  She began to walk a few steps before turning back and pointing to Gladio.  “You’re the boyfriend, right?  C’mere; we want you, too.”  Gladio started in surprise, but stood and made to follow, stepping forward quickly so he could stay by Ignis’ side.  He was close enough that the other could reach out if he needed, but he suspected that Ignis wanted to appear as strong on his own merits as he could.  Indeed, Ignis did not take his arm and made his way over to where the producer indicated.  Gladio was directed to stand behind the camera as well.   

“You can direct your answers to your boyfriend if it feels more natural,” the producer said with a chuckle.  “Some people find that easier.”

“Though I suspect Gladio already knows the answers to anything you could ask, I shall keep that in mind.”  Ignis smiled slightly in return and the producer laughed again. 

“Alright.  Fantastic.  Start rolling, please.”  After a moment, she smiled and began to speak, prompting Ignis with her questions.  “Tell me your name and occupation then.”

Ignis cleared his throat and answered.  “Ah.  My name is Ignis Scientia.  I’m an adviser to the CEO of Eos Enterprises.” 

“How interesting.”  The producer smiled.  Her comments would all be cut in post-production, but she preferred to acknowledge the subject’s comments as they came.  “Ignis, tell me how you started cooking.” 

He recounted that he’d been learning since he was a small child and had wanted to learn more about where his food came from and what went into its preparation.  It was a short story, no more than a minute of talking, and the questions came easy and light after that.   _ Where are you from?  How old are you?  What’s your favorite dish to make? _

And then he was nailed with the one that was incredibly hard. 

“How do you think your lack of eyesight will affect you in the competition?”

Gladio could see Ignis’ shoulders tense reflexively in response.   _Fuck_.  He shot a glare at the producer, tempted to tell her to lay off with the questions, but Ignis responded before Gladio could even get his mouth open.  

“It won’t.”  Ignis’ voice was firm and left no room for argument.  “My vision does not slow me down at home; it will not slow me down here.”

She frowned a little, clearly not satisfied with this answer.  “But it’s an unfamiliar kitchen,” she pressed.  “You don’t think that will cause you trouble?” 

Ignis shook his head slightly, his gaze darting to where he sensed Gladio was standing.  “Every kitchen was unfamiliar to me until the first time I stood in it,” he said quietly.  “But once I learned it inside and out, it became my haven.  I imagine that it will be much the same here.”

With that, Ignis stood and stepped away from the view of the camera.  He walked towards Gladio with purpose and as confidently as if he could see the other man.  A small smile was on his face, and Gladio knew that, despite being momentarily thrown by the question, Ignis was ready. 

Suddenly a voice called out from the soundstage doors.  “Competitors with the number eight on their sheet!  You’re next!  Please make your way to the doors for your entrance shot!”

“That’s you,” Gladio murmured, looking down at the paper in Ignis’ hand. 

Quick footsteps announced the arrival of the others and Ignis turned in their direction.  “That’s me,” he agreed with a soft chuckle.

“Iggs!”  Prompto clenched his fists.  “You’re gonna do awesome!  C’mon, we’ve all gotta get a selfie together before you go!”  Before any of the others could argue, he tugged out his camera and pulled them all in to snap a quick picture.  Prompto glanced at his viewfinder and grinned.  “That’s awesome!  I’ll describe it to you later, alright?  After you’ve gotten your white apron!”

 Noctis grinned and placed his hand on Ignis’ shoulder.  “Hey.  Kick their asses in there.  We can’t wait to hear how it goes.”

“Thank you both.”  Ignis was warmed by their excitement for him and smiled fondly at his friends before turning his attention to Gladio.  “Well.  I suppose I had better head in.  I will return soon enough.” 

There were so many things that Gladio wanted to say in that moment, but none seemed right.  Whether too trite or too sappy…the words just didn’t come out as he wanted them to.  Gladio instead cleared his throat and wrapped Ignis in a brief but tight hug.  “You’re amazing,” was all he said softly.  “Show them who’s boss.”

Ignis smiled at the words and, in a rare moment of public display, reached up to cup Gladio’s chin before pressing their lips together.  “I intend to, love,” he said warmly.  One more brief kiss and Ignis pulled away, keeping his long cane in hand as he walked towards the doors.  People were kind enough to move out of his way as he picked his way through the crowd, and before long Ignis stood at the top of the stairs with the other competitor, turning back towards where he left his friends. 

The crowd cheered for them both as Ignis lifted his hand towards the others before the doors opened.  The cheers only grew as both entered the soundstage, the doors swinging shut behind them once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted to get through the actual challenge for this chapter, but everything else got so long I had to cut it here! I hope that the actual challenge is worth the wait - it's almost all cooking content from here on out!!
> 
> Super big thanks to Mahbecks for suggesting that Monica be Ignis' guide! We went back and forth on this for a loooong while about who it should be. Sorry, Gladio, you were never gonna be able to be picked :( And let's have a quiet moment for Iris, who was almost the pick before being eliminated for the same reasons as Gladio. :(


	4. White Apron Challenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The White Apron Challenge is underway! How will Ignis fare in a pastry challenge? His competition is a vibrant young man named Zidane, and Ignis suspects that there's more to the boy than meets the eye...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up: THIS CHAPTER IS FUCKING LONG.

The first producer who had hyped up the crowd that morning was waiting behind the doors, out of the view of the cameras but ready to guide the competitors down the hallway to the kitchen.  “Alright, you two!” she said cheerily.  “How are you feeling?  Are you ready?”

Ignis heard the other competitor’s voice first.  “You bet I am!”  The man’s voice was young and full of energy, and Ignis was momentarily reminded of Prompto.  All he could tell was that he was young and about five-and-a-half feet tall. “I was born ready for this.”  Ignis heard him shift and suddenly his voice faced more towards him.  “Hey.  My name’s Zidane.  Good luck in there.”

He smiled warmly and held out his hand to meet Zidane’s in a firm handshake.  “Ignis.  The best of luck to you as well, Zidane.”  The other man was certainly friendly enough with his competition.  Was he chivalrous or just confident that he could win?  He couldn’t tell in this brief meeting, but Ignis decided to proceed as if he was being chivalrous.  It wouldn’t do to assume the worst of everyone and let it get to him before he’d even gotten into the kitchen.

Ignis heard footsteps to his left and turned in that direction.  It wasn’t long before he heard a familiar voice.  “Ignis.  It’s Monica.  Are you ready?”

Ignis smiled at the sound of her voice and gave her a nod.  “Hello again, Monica.  Yes, I am prepared.”

“Good, I’m glad to hear it.”  Monica’s voice was warm and she stood closer to Ignis.  She did not offer her arm just yet, as he hadn’t asked and Ignis seemed capable of navigating himself for the most part.  If he asked, she would assist - that was her job.

The producer interrupted the train of thought.  “Well.  Ignis, Zidane...here’s how it will work.  You’ll enter and meet the judges.  You’ll be given your dish and then have five minutes to go into the pantry to find what you need.  Then, depending on the dish, you’ll have anywhere from 45 minutes to an hour and a half to create your masterpieces.  After that...the judges will sample your food, critique, and choose the winner of the challenge.”  She smiled at them both.  “Any questions?”

Both men shook their heads.  Ignis swore he could actually feel Zidane vibrating across the distance between them, the boy was so excited.  But now Ignis was left wondering just what he would cook up in that kitchen.  He suspected that the boy had more to him than his casual demeanor indicated and Ignis resolved not to let his guard down.

They began to walk down the hallway, Ignis carefully sweeping the area with his long cane to navigate his way as Monica quietly described the hallway they were in as well as the other people around them.  Ignis learned that Zidane was a young man, no older than 18, and that he had dusty blond hair and blue eyes, as well as an expression that indicated that he knew he could win.  As he listened, Ignis could feel the burning weight of someone’s stare on him - likely Zidane’s - but Ignis wasn’t concerned.  He sensed no ill will in the gaze, more curiosity, and turned a brief smile in the other man’s direction.

It was only a moment before they arrived at the doors leading to the kitchen.  Monica gently spoke before Ignis got too close.  “Wait, Ignis.  They’re opening the doors.”  He stopped and waited, listening for the sound of the doors opening, but he did not continue until Monica spoke again.  “The doors are open.  Let’s proceed.”  

Ignis continued on his path into the kitchen, noting that the lighting changed as they stepped in - he could still sense that, though that was about the extent of what he could see - listening carefully as the producer directed Zidane to the station he would be at.  She also told Monica which station was Ignis’, and Monica approached him.  Carefully she touched the back of her hand to his to indicate that she was there, waiting a moment as Ignis took her arm.  It wasn’t as if he’d be able to identify “the station at the front” without some assistance, so he figured it was better to accept help.  “Thank you,” he murmured as they began to walk.

“Welcome.”  An accented voice spoke and Ignis turned towards the sound of the voice.  He started slightly when he realized that the man addressing them was Gordon Ramsay.  He’d watched enough of the man’s shows before he’d lost his vision that he had a pretty clear vision of what he looked like in his mind - unless Gordon had shaved his head in the last two years or so, Ignis was pretty sure he could picture the other man clearly.

All ridiculous thoughts of a bald Gordon aside, though.

Ignis knew that the man was an amazing chef; the Michelin stars were enough of an indicator of that.  But he hadn’t really grown to appreciate just how well-rounded he was until after Masterchef Junior had started airing a few years back.  Until that point, Ramsay’s perception in the US was that of an angry, shouting Scottish man.  But when he worked with the children on that show, he was a different man.  He was kind but firm with them.  He held them to high standards, but he knew when to step in to help and encourage the children.  It was truly amazing to hear how gentle the so-called explosive chef could be, and Ignis had gained a newfound respect for him after that.

And now here he was, facing down the legend.  Ignis swallowed a brief burst of nerves.  This was hardly the time to become overwhelmed.

As they continued to walk, Monica leaned over and described the kitchen to him.  Ignis was impressed that she spoke rapidly enough to cover a lot of ground during their brief stroll, but was thorough enough that Ignis was able to build his mental picture as he walked.  When she finished describing the kitchen, she turned her attention to describing the judges.  This had to be a bit quicker as they were approaching the station, and was more so Ignis had names to go with the voices.

“The judges are Gordon Ramsay, Christina Tosi, and  Aarón Sánchez,” Monica murmured.  All three of them heard their names and shifted their attention to the woman speaking.  “Turn to your left; we’re at your station.”

As Ramsay watched the man stand behind the station, he was reminded of Christine from a few years back.  She had overcome the odds and become a Masterchef, and he briefly wondered if the man before him would do the same.

“Welcome,” he repeated.

“Hey,” Zidane said, lifting his hand in a wave.

“Afternoon,” Ignis said with a smile and a nod in return.

Ramsay looked between the two men for a moment as Tosi spoke up.  “Zidane and Ignis.  Your challenge today will be to make us your absolute best pastry dish.”  She was pleased; pastries were more her thing than the other two judges, and she was eager to see what the men in front of them would come up with.  “You’ll have an hour to impress us.  Are you both ready?”

_ Pastry _ .  Ignis’ lips curled in a smile.  Well...that he could do.  He already knew exactly what he was going to make.

The question was whether or not it would be sufficient as it was.

“Hell yeah I’m ready!”  Zidane excitedly pumped his arm.

Ignis nodded, idly running his hands over the workstation before him to try and complete his picture of it.  He had a pretty good idea of where everything was and what he would need to do to begin.  “Ready and willing,” he replied.

Sánchez smiled and crossed his arms.  “Alright.  Your five minutes in the pantry are gonna start...now!”

Zidane immediately took off, but Ignis had another thing in mind.  Before even moving to the pantry, Ignis leaned over to preheat the oven.  He wouldn’t need it for quite some time yet, but he would rather not be caught off guard when the moment came.  Most ovens started at 350, if he remembered correctly, and went up in increments of five, so that meant...fifteen presses of the button.  He quickly set it and turned towards Monica.  “Monica,” he said.  “Can you please confirm that this is set to 425 degrees?”

“It is,” she said.

Ignis smiled.  “Perfect.  We should be off, then.”

Monica again touched the back of her hand to his, and he took her arm and let her walk them towards the pantry.

As soon as both contestants were out of earshot, Tosi leaned over to the other two.  “Did you see the way that Ignis has already pre-set his oven?  Do you think that’s really the best use of his time right now?”

“He does know he’s only got five minutes, doesn’t he?” Sánchez asked curiously.  “Wonder what he’s thinking.”  Ramsay didn’t reply, only lifting his hand to his chin in thought.

By the time he arrived in the pantry, Ignis could hear Zidane practically bouncing from shelf to shelf like an exuberant monkey.  But Ignis was calmer and more collected, quickly rattling off the few ingredients that he needed to Monica.

“Can you direct me towards the flour, sea salt, sugar, and butter to begin?” he asked.

“Certainly.”  Monica walked them to where he asked, giving Zidane a sharp look as he almost collided with them.  But the boy looked sheepish and apologized before continuing on, thankfully being more mindful of his steps.

Ignis was thankful that the butter was already stored at room temperature; he wouldn’t have to let it warm at all.  “Perfect,” he murmured, tucking it into his basket.  He found the flour, sugar, and salt with little fanfare as well, closing his eyes as he thought about his next ingredients.

“Next I’ll need raspberries, strawberries, blueberries, blackberries, and bananas.  After that, I must find milk, cream, and eggs.  And believe it or not, that should be all I need.”

“Okay, then we’d better get started.”  Monica guided Ignis towards the fruit.

“Two minutes left!”  Tosi’s voice could be heard from outside the pantry.

“That’s all the time I need,” Ignis said more to himself than to Monica as he felt for the best fruits possible.  Thankfully the bananas were just a touch past ripe; he could tell by feeling the firmness of the fruit.  He’d used them last time, and though Noctis had said it wasn’t quite right…

Ignis shook his head.  No, he could think about that later.  Right now he needed to focus on his task.

The berries were easier to pick and he found some of the fresher-feeling ones with relative ease.  After confirming with Monica that there were no obvious rotten spots on any of the fruits, Ignis gathered his things and headed for the dairy section.

“Milk...cream…eggs...”  He found the items as easily as he spoke them.  “That should do it.”

Ignis made his way back to his station with Monica at his side.

Zidane burst out of the pantry only a moment after Ignis, practically sprinting back to his spot.  Ignis could hear his fast footsteps and his lips drew together firmly.   _ I can hear how excited you are, my friend.  I am sorry that only one of us can go beyond here. _

“Your hour starts...now!”

Immediately Ignis began.  He felt around for the flour, butter, and salt before turning his attention to Monica once more.  “Is there a sifter at this station?”

Sánchez spoke up at this point.  “Tools are over in the left storage room.  You can go get anything you need.”

“Perfect.”  Ignis straightened up and took his long cane in hand from where it sat at the end of his work station.  “Monica?”

“I’m here.”  She waited until he took her arm before leading the way to the storage room.

“Thank you.”  Ignis reached a hand out, trailing along the different equipment that he found.  “I’ll need a sifter as well as a cupcake tin...in addition to a standard mixing bowl and a kitchen scale.”

Monica guided him to each area, letting Ignis feel and choose the best of each tool for the job.  He seemed pleased with his choices and returned to his station.

“These will do,” he murmured as he set up.  Quickly he measured out some flour on the scale, asking for confirmation that he had weighed out 250g.  Monica confirmed the weight verbally, but quietly turned her own thoughts over as she watched Ignis begin to sift the flour.

_ I’ve worked with many people with vision impairments in the past, but I don’t know that I’ve ever seen anyone move with such confidence right from the start.  He barely took the time to get himself acquainted with his surroundings, but his movements are precise.  That measurement he made was spot on his first attempt.  I can tell...he’s been preparing for this for a while.  He really meant it when he told that producer that his vision won’t slow him down. _

“Zidane.”  Tosi’s voice broke Monica’s train of thought as the pastry chef spoke to the young man.  “What are you making for us today?”

“I’m making some apple turnover.”  Zidane grinned as he added some water to his bowl.  “I love this stuff, and my girlfriend says that my turnovers are the best.”

Tosi nodded as she watched him work.  With deft hands Zidane floured his board, clearly preparing to roll out the dough.  He was on the right track; she just hoped that he stayed there.  “What brought you to Masterchef?”

Zidane considered this for a minute as he continued to work, tossing his dough on the board and beginning to flatten it out.  “People always underestimate me,” he said, his voice a little quieter than before.  “They always think I’m just some young, dumb, happy-go-lucky idiot.  I wanted to show them that I can be so much more.”

Ignis listened, though his hands did not slow as he chunked the butter with precision.  It wasn’t as if he didn’t understand the desire to have people not underestimate you.  Perhaps there was more to the excitable young man than met the eye.

“Plus…” Zidane continued with a wicked smirk.  “I saw all the pretty ladies and decided that it was the place for me to be.”

Tosi looked at him with a small frown.  “Didn’t you just mention your girlfriend?”  Clearly she sounded less than pleased with his declaration as Zidane shrugged.

It was easy to dismiss what Zidane said as the ignorant comments of a playboy, but Ignis heard something more.  He heard the slight strain to his voice, like the young man was trying to make light of what he said.  While he suspected that Zidane might actually be a bit of a skirt-chaser, Ignis felt as if the truth was that he was calling attention to that in order to distance himself from his earlier moroseness, to not appear weak.  This boy really would be someone to watch out for; Ignis knew that he could not let his guard down.

“So.  Ignis.”  Sánchez spoke to him directly now and Ignis lifted his head slightly to acknowledge him.

“Yes, Chef?”  Ignis continued to work his dough, pouring in most but not all of the water.

“What are you making today?”  Sánchez lifted his chin slightly to watch Ignis work the dough.  He took a brief stock of the other ingredients at Ignis’ bench and tried to picture what the final product could be.  Clearly Ignis was working on puff pastry of sorts, but he wasn’t sure what exactly it was going to look like in the end.

Ignis chuckled as he covered his dough with cling wrap and tucked it into the refrigerator below the station that Monica helped him find.  “Well...I haven’t a name for it,” he admitted.  “It’s a pastry recipe that a friend of mine has been chasing the taste of for the better part of ten years.”

“That long, huh?” Sánchez asked.  “How did you start trying to make this?”

He paused for a moment, setting down a cutting board next to the strawberries.  For a moment he’d been able to forget about the cameras around him, but the awareness of their presence came slamming back in that moment.  Ignis was sure that if he listened closely he could practically hear the wheeling of the tripod as the cameraman tried to get a better shot.  They were clearly waiting for him to elaborate on some big story about why he was choosing to make such a dessert.  Ignis’ mind flashed back to the producer from earlier, her frown clear in her voice as she expressed disappointment with Ignis’ lack of willingness to fall into her neat little “tragic character” trope.

He cleared his throat.  “He had it once on a trip as a child,” Ignis said casually.  “He’s been trying to find the same taste ever since.  Apparently last time I was quite close, but not exactly.”  The full story wasn’t his to share.  And as friendly as the judges seemed, Ignis would rather focus on the actual process of baking right now rather than telling Noctis’ story.

“Really?”  Sánchez sounded interested.  “Well, I hope you’re close enough for us.”

A smile crossed Ignis’ face as he set up his saucepan to begin caramelizing the sugar.  “I certainly hope so as well.”

Ignis and Zidane worked in relative silence for a while, each occasionally fielding questions from the chefs.  It was a friendly, conversational tone between them all as the two competitors prepared.  Ignis could smell the way that his berries stewed and was pleased with the sweet scent of it.  It was a nice fruity mixture without being too overwhelming, and he felt that the judges would like it as well.  While that continued to stew, he could begin working on the custard for the top.

As Ignis peeled the bananas to begin mashing them, he could smell something from Zidane’s station.  Cinnamon...lemon juice...well, it certainly seemed like he was doing well with his turnovers thus far; all of the components appeared to be there.  But something about the lemon juice smelled a little off, a touch too sharp and tangy.  Was it bottled or was he hand squeezing it?  He was curious, but Ignis didn’t let it distract him further.  He was far too busy mixing in his eggs, milk, and cream, and he had to ensure that each of his measurements was spot on.  It wouldn’t do to fall to pieces now, lest the pastry do the same.

“Shit,” Ignis heard Zidane mumble from the other workbench.  “I don’t think it’s enough…”

“Something wrong?”  Ramsay looked to the young man curiously.  He had certainly seen a few things that could elicit such a reaction as Zidane went and he wondered if the other had managed to notice any of them.

“Ahhh, it’s probably nothing…”  But Ignis heard that uncertainty underlying his words.  “Might not have folded this dough right is all.”  The sound of a refrigerator opening indicated that he was checking on it.  “Might not be long enough for it to rest, either,” the boy muttered to himself.

Tosi hummed thoughtfully.  She’d been wondering the same thing; dough needed the proper amount of time to chill and she wasn’t sure that Zidane’s would have enough, particularly since she’d seen him fold it a little haphazardly.  Would the texture come out the way he wanted?

“I don’t think he’ll have let it sit long enough,” she whispered to Ramsay and Sánchez.  “Plus, with the way he folded that butter, I don’t think that his dough will come out the way he’s expecting.”

“I can see that,” Sánchez replied quietly.  “I’m a little worried about Ignis, as well.  He’s making something that he’s not a hundred percent sure is up to snuff.  I’m all for trying something new, but is this really the best time to do that?”

Ignis heard them, of course.  But he was focused entirely on what he was doing and let their words filter out.  He turned his attention back to his berries to ensure that they weren’t burning.

“Thirty minutes remaining!” Ramsay shouted.

Ignis’ eyes flickered up instinctively.  (Call it a habit from twenty years of being able to see properly, but he often found that his gaze would still go to someone when they spoke, even if he could see nothing.)  He didn’t have much time.

Quickly but carefully Ignis removed his dough from the refrigerator and began to roll it out.  It didn’t take long to get it to the appropriate thickness before he began to line the cupcake tin with the dough and crimp the edges.  He leaned over and wafted the scent of the berry mixture towards himself, making sure that it was absolutely perfect.  He had set it to strain a little while ago, and was ready to place it in the cups.

“C’mon, c’mon…”  Zidane was still muttering to himself, trying to seal his turnover.  “Oh, crap, did I put in too much?”  There was a pause.  “No, that might be enough.  I think it’s okay.”

_ If you’re uncertain, I fear that it is, indeed,  _ not _ okay. _  Ignis spared just a moment’s thought for his opponent before carefully adding his berry mixture into the cups.  With a careful finger he felt to ensure that none of the stray berries were poking up over the top.  Pleased that they were all lying flat, he took the banana custard and carefully swept it across the pastry.

That...would do.  Ignis breathed out slowly and slid the tin into the oven.  Now he just had to wait for them to finish.  But he wouldn’t let his hands be idle, immediately moving over to prepare the mixed berries for garnish.  Only a few moments later he heard Zidane slide his own confection into the oven.

He could still hear the slick sounds Zidane mixing something - possibly a glaze for the top of his turnover?  That’s how he would have approached it, anyways.  But Ignis needed to turn his focus to his work, not his opponent’s.

Already Ignis was visualizing how his own treat would look when it was finished.  It was a delicate cup pastry that could easily crumble to pieces if not handled correctly, and he prayed that his would hold.  They had held last time, though he had still had sight last time he’d tried.

Was this foolish?  Crafting an imperfect recipe that he hadn’t tried to make since before he lost his vision for one of the largest cooking competitions in the world?  Suddenly he was uncertain.  It had seemed like the best idea at the time - it brought “him” on a plate forward, and wasn’t that always what the judges called for in this show?  To demonstrate himself on a plate was key, and this labor of love was  _ him _ all over.

The timer went off a few minutes later and Ignis knelt, grabbing a towel and carefully retrieving the confections from the oven.  He had more than enough to demonstrate to the judges, but he needed to determine if they were completely finished.  He took a knife in hand and carefully scraped the flat edge along one of them, listening for the sound of the pastry.  It needed to be firm but not too hard.

That gentle crisp noise as he ran his knife along the pastry indicated that they were all done to perfection.  For the first time, Ignis allowed himself a smile.

“Five minutes remaining!” Ramsay shouted.  Ignis’ face pulled back into that cool impassive mask as he went about plating the pastry so that it was perfect.  Internally he wished that he’d had the time to make a proper ice cream as a side, but that was something that needed a chance to set properly overnight.  This wasn’t the right moment to make an attempt at it, as loath as he was to admit it.

Zidane fell silent as well, though Ignis could hear him working on his plate from across the room.  There were fewer than five minutes to go, and both men were trying to make this the most important dish of their lives.

Tch.  Hyperbole was usually beneath him, but...somehow now, it seemed appropriate.  Ignis pressed his lips together and ensured that his berries were in a neat pile.  With those set, Ignis gently felt along the pastry, taking care to be sure that the angle was the way he wanted it, presenting the best side.  Distantly he could hear the three chefs counting down from 5 and he put his finishing touches on the plate.

“...and stop!  Hands in the air!”  Ramsay’s voice broke Ignis’ concentration and he stepped back, lifting his hands to his shoulders as if in surrender.  And in a way, he was surrendering himself to the hands of the judges.  He could hear the three of them clapping and Ignis’ shoulders flexed slightly as he exhaled slowly.

Well.  This was it.

“Great job, both of you,” Tosi said warmly.  “Now both of you.  Please, carefully bring your dishes down to the front.”

Zidane glanced over to Ignis and made a surprising offer.  “You want a hand?”

Ignis found himself warmed by the offer but shook his head.  A good man indeed.  “No thank you,” he said politely.  “I prefer to handle my own food.”  He took a moment to think things through and realized that he would have to either ask Monica to guide him to the front, or to attempt to go it alone with food in his hand.  And as tempting as it was to ensure that he had complete stability, Ignis knew that he had to walk under his own power.  He couldn’t let any perceived weakness be seen by the cameras or by the judges - the ones he had to impress the most.

“I’m fine,” he murmured when Monica touched the back of her hand to his.  “Thank you.”

He straightened himself up, took his long cane in one hand, and took the plate in the other before carefully navigating his way towards the front.  That much he was sure he could do.

When the tip of his cane touched the stand where the food was supposed to be placed, Sánchez spoke up.  “If you just stretch your arm forward, Ignis, the plate will be right where it needs to be.”

“Thank you.”  Ignis reached out and, true to his word, found the stand and carefully placed his plate down.  Zidane held back until Ignis was settled before placing his own down, an act of chivalry that was noticed and appreciated.  If he stayed in the Masterchef kitchen, Ignis had no doubt that he would learn it inside and out, but for now he appreciated the extra caution.

“Okay, Zidane.”  Tosi stepped forward and addressed the other man first.  “Talk me through your turnover.”

“Well…it’s an apple turnover with light glaze on top.”  Zidane exhaled and there was a shuffling noise, as if running a hand through his hair.  “Homemade crust and tender apple filling.”

The sound of a knife and fork filled the air, and Ignis could hear as Tosi cut into the turnover.  Unfortunately, it wasn’t the kind of noise that you wanted to hear when cutting pastry; it squished rather than crisped.

“Zidane.”  Tosi’s voice was gentle but firm.  “Your turnover is too soggy on the bottom, and I’m afraid the overall texture isn’t right, either.”

“Ah,  _ shit. _ ”  The boy groaned in pain and Ignis felt a pang of sympathy.  He’d had turnovers come out the very same way when he’d started cooking, and he was pretty sure he knew exactly why it had failed.  His tone of voice indicated that Zidane knew as well.

“Do you know why?”  Tosi waited a moment for his answer, and he sighed.

“I think so,” he said, sounding more than a little dissatisfied.  “I loaded it up with too much filling again, huh?”

“You did.”

He sighed again.  “I didn’t fold the butter in right either.”

“Unfortunately, no.”  There was a pause and Ignis heard chewing.  “However...the filling is  _ good. _  The lemon juice is a touch overpowering…”

“I grabbed bottled,” Zidane admitted before she could finish her thought.  “I thought I wouldn’t have enough time otherwise.”

“Aside from that?  Your filling is exactly as it should be.”  Tosi placed her knife and fork into the waiting bin.  “You could learn, I think.  I’d be curious to see what else you can do.”

Ramsay and Sánchez had similar comments for Zidane - the texture was unfortunately beyond rescuing, but the filling was something to be praised.  Sánchez in particular complimented Zidane on his use of cinnamon in the turnover.  “Not too strong, just enough to really bring out the flavor of those apples - the real star of the dish.”

Ignis took in their comments carefully, though he was not their intended recipient.  So this was the level that he would be expected to perform at consistently.  Their expectations were high, and Ignis knew - and was thankful - for the fact that he’d be shown no mercy simply for his condition.  He stood tall as he heard small steps approach - likely Tosi’s heels.

Her voice confirmed her presence.  “Ignis.  Tell me about your mystery pastry.”

Ignis nodded and spoke.  “Certainly.  This is a puff pastry with a raspberry, blackberry, strawberry, and blueberry filling, and topped with banana custard.”  He drew his hands together behind his back and waited as he heard Tosi make the first cut into the dessert.

“Your puff pastry is beautiful,” Tosi said with a clear smile in her voice.  “Absolutely perfect texturing.  And the inside looks immaculate.”  She paused for a moment.  “Can you see it at all?”

“Ah.  No.”  Briefly he wetted his lips but held his stance.  “I felt it as I went to be certain that everything was as I wanted.”

“Amazing.”  She sounded awed as she took a bite.  “I love the flavors of the berries, but…”  Tosi tried to think of the best way to say what needed said.  “Your friend...he said that it wasn’t quite what he remembered, didn’t he?”

Ignis nodded firmly, his lips drawing into a tight line.  This is what he had feared.  Maybe it truly wasn’t up to snuff.  “He did.”

“I understand what he meant.”  Ignis heard the clatter of her discarding her knife and fork.  “It isn’t complete as is, but I would have to think about the flavor that’s missing.  It’s very good, but there’s something that should be there, yet isn’t.”

Ignis nodded in acknowledgment.  Clearly the dish wasn’t as ready as he had hoped.  “Thank you for your feedback,” he said softly.  “I will have to think on what’s missing as well.”

Sánchez clearly disagreed as he stepped forward and took a bite.  “This is good,” he praised.  “I like how you did the banana custard for the top; it lets it be sweet without going over the top with a glaze to fill in the cracks.”

Funny, Ignis thought.  A glaze had been his first attempt, when he was 17 years old.  The too-creamy glaze had practically dripped from Noctis’ mouth and the boy looked as if he’d bitten into a tube of toothpaste.  Not his finest effort.  His lips quirked at the memory, and Sánchez seemed to notice.

“You’ve made this dish a lot, huh,” he said.  “Done the glaze before?”

“To disastrous results,” Ignis laughed.

“I’m looking forward to seeing what else you can show us.”  Sánchez discarded his silverware and Ramsay stepped forward in his place.

“Visually, it looks stunning,” he said.  “I barely believe you can’t see, if I hadn’t seen someone else do this years before.”

Ignis nodded.  He knew exactly to whom Ramsay referred; Ignis had watched the third season of Masterchef many times over the past few years as he learned to maneuver in the kitchen once more.  Christine, the winner and a chef who was blind as well, had been an inspiration to him, how she had gone all the way despite gradually losing her eyesight over ten years.  She had never let it slow her down, and Ignis strove to be the same way.

“Thank you,” was all Ignis said quietly.  Reflexively his hand came up to adjust his shades as he heard Ramsay take a bite.  There was a long, heart-stopping pause.

“I understand what Christina means,” Ramsay said after a moment.  “There’s definitely something missing.”

Ignis’ stomach dropped.  Had he come all this way only to be turned away at the door?

“But.”  Ramsay continued thoughtfully.  “I don’t think it holds the dish back.  As is, it’s quite good.  I can tell that you were cooking long before you lost your vision.”

“I was,” Ignis confirmed.  “Since I was young.”

“It shows.”  The telltale clatter of silverware being discarded.  “I watched the tape your friend sent to us.  He said that you’re almost ‘back’ to where you were two years ago.  But I don’t want you to be ‘back’ where you were in the kitchen before.”  Ramsay paused and Ignis could picture that intense blue gaze fixed on him.  “I want you to go beyond that.”

Humbled, all Ignis could do was nod.  “Thank you, Chef,” he murmured as Ramsay stepped back to rejoin the other judges.

“Well, then.”  Tosi clapped her hands together briefly.  “Two pastry dishes.  Two home cooks who both have the potential to grow.  One white apron.”  She exchanged a brief glance with her co-hosts before stepping forward and taking the apron in hand.  “The home cook who has shown us their skills thus far, and has shown us that they have the potential to achieve great heights is…”

She smiled and stepped forward, arm extended…

***

Gladio was pacing by the door, running his hand through his hair.  They’d been in there for over an hour already and there was still no word from Ignis.  He, Prompto, and Noctis had each been interviewed and asked plenty of questions about Ignis, which distracted them for a while, but now they were left to their own devices and to wait for Ignis’ return.

The last time he’d been this keyed up, Ignis had been in a hospital room waiting to hear whether or not he could ever regain his sight and Gladio had been told to wait outside while the doctor spoke.

Honestly, he felt just as helpless now as he did then.  The key difference was that this time, Ignis was in control, paving his own way, and Gladio could do nothing but wait and watch.

It was an odd mixture of pride and tremors he felt.

Suddenly the soundstage doors creaked and he practically gave himself whiplash turning to see.  Distantly he could hear Prompto setting up his camera, waiting for that first moment when they would see their friend, but Gladio’s eyes were transfixed on the doors.

When they opened completely, Ignis, Monica, and the other boy stood there, and - 

_ Ignis was wearing the white apron. _

Gladio’s roar of excitement, pride, and love practically drowned out his friends and the crowd as he pushed his way towards the stairs.  He had to get there, had to tell Ignis just how fucking  _ proud  _ he was - 

The boy smirked a little and shrugged, but turned to Ignis and placed a firm hand on his shoulder.  His lips moved; Gladio couldn’t hear his words but it seemed as if the kid was a good sport, congratulating Ignis on his win.  But he saw Gladio coming and quickly stepped away, just in time for the bigger man to wrap his arms around Ignis.  Ignis made a startled noise, but it relaxed into a laugh as he recognized the scent enveloping him.  Gladio’s hands came up, cupping Ignis’ cheeks and pulling him in for a firm kiss.  He could hear a few noises of excitement at that (mostly from Prompto), and he was sure that the cameras were focused on them, capturing every single moment of their intimate kiss.

But right now, he didn’t give a damn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, y'all. This is either the point where this fic transcends and goes beyond what I could ever dream, or the moment it goes completely down the toilet. Yes, I am introducing the judges from Masterchef as characters in this story.
> 
> I tried. I went back and forth, debating about whether or not I could just use Final Fantasy characters as the judges instead. But from the beginning with how I've imagined this story, it was never going to be right to do it that way. The reason it's taken me so long to write this part is because I felt _weird_ writing for real people. This goes beyond the silly memes where we photoshop Ignis into Hell's Kitchen. I started writing this as a meaningful piece about Ignis' personal growth in an alternate reality where he exists in our world - in the real world.
> 
> To be honest? This is the scariest thing I've ever written just because it's so far out of my comfort zone. I've got this weird lump in my throat over it and it bothers me. Part of me is worried I'm throwing away my credibility as a writer. But this is how I've always imagined this story going and I can't _not_ do it that way.
> 
> So. Mahbecks and LucyArgentum both encouraged me to write it as I'd always pictured it, and that's what I will do. Ideally, the focus won't really be on the judges anyways; it's more about how Ignis will have grown throughout his journey.
> 
> Mahbecks gets co-creator credit on this chapter because she taught me so much about baking that I would never, ever have even known what to research on my own. Not only did she teach me what Ignis had to do right, she also taught me what Zidane should do wrong to get eliminated. Thank you so much, Becks!! And thanks for letting me add you as a co-creator :)
> 
> A few other sources I used:
> 
> https://www.bbcgoodfood.com/recipes/2403/roughpuff-pastry-  
> https://www.reddit.com/r/FFXV/comments/5mebuh/i_made_the_memory_lane_pastry_aka_noctiss/  
> http://www.tasteofhome.com/recipes/apple-turnovers


	5. No Consequence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignis learns that not everyone may have his best interests in mind and settles in for his stay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a few days! I got a little burned out after writing Ignis' challenge and needed a break. I hope the fluff makes up for it :)

 

Once the final shots of the day had been taken, the producer from that morning clapped her hands together, calling everyone’s attention.  “Alright!  Competitors - congratulations!  We’re so excited to have all of you this year.”  The ten who had been chosen gave an excited (if tired) whoop at her words.  “Here’s how the next part works: tonight, everyone is going to go get some sleep.  We’ve booked a block of rooms for you, where you’ll be staying until such time as you are eliminated from the competition.  Tomorrow, we’ll have all of you come together to eat some breakfast and get to know each other.  You’ll take the day to get adjusted and then we start filming bright and early the next morning.”

She turned her attention to the families, friends, and supporters who were gathered.  “Those of you who are not competing, though?  I’m afraid it’s time for you to head home.”  Her smile was sympathetic.  “But please don’t worry.  We’ll be taking good care of your loved ones here, and you’ll see them again soon enough.”

“Hey, are we allowed to keep in touch?”  Ignis recognized Zidane’s voice from somewhere in the crowd and quirked an eyebrow.  He’d been eliminated, hadn’t he?  “I don’t want my lady to forget me while she blows her way through the rest of you, after all.”  A polite chuckle rippled through the others at that.

_ Well, well.  So his girlfriend managed to make it to the competition, did she? _ Ignis wondered thoughtfully.   _ I wonder what she’s like. _

“You are,” the producer said carefully.  “But...if we find out that anyone is sharing results, or challenges, or secrets of what’s happening behind the scenes, they’ll be immediately eliminated.  It’s not something we’ve ever had to do,” she elaborated.  “It’s not something we’d like to start, either.  Just be careful with what you share.”

They all nodded.  It was reasonable, they figured.  The producers didn’t want any of the show’s secrets to get out, and it would hardly be fair if families at home got to know the results of the competition before it even got to air on television.  But it allowed room for them to reach out and let their families and friends know that they were doing alright.

Gladio felt his shoulders relax at that.  He was glad to know that Iggy wasn’t going to be completely cut off from the outside world.  And he’d at least get to hear that he was doing alright, even if he wasn’t allowed to know exactly what was going on at the soundstage.

That was fine.  Gladio didn’t mind a little bit of surprise, to a degree.  It would be pretty fun to get to see how everything came together when the editors were done with it.  Gladio knew that Ignis had less tolerance for the stuff, but Gladio had always secretly kind of loved the call of reality tv.  It was like a train wreck that you couldn’t look away from.

(Honestly, he preferred reading on any given day, but it wasn’t too bad to break it up.  Occasionally.  He could feel Ignis’ judging stare every time Gladio hung a moment too long on a particularly trashy channel while surfing.

“It’s like a damn black hole,” Gladio would mutter as he reluctantly changed the channel.)

“So.  Say your goodbyes, and once you’re ready, please come and get your hotel room key.”

“Aw, man.”  Prompto crossed his arms over his chest and frowned.  “We don’t even get to hang out a bit?”

“Guess not.”  Noctis looked around, watching the others begin to say goodbye to their families and friends.  “Dad wouldn’t let me stay out here more than the day of the audition, anyway.  I have to get back.”  He wanted to stay, but he knew that there was no negotiating with his father beyond this - not to mention they were being asked to leave.  

“I will be fine on my own.”  Ignis smiled at them.  “Don’t put yourselves out on my account.  Besides, I’m quite ready to sleep at this point.”  He barely managed to stifle a yawn.  “I fear I would not be good company.”

Prompto sighed a little but nodded.  “Yeah, you’ve earned some rest after that.  Oh, but wait!  We’ve gotta get one more selfie of you with your apron now!”

As they all pressed together, laughing as Prompto grumbled about how short his arms were and whining that Gladio should be the one to take the picture, a smooth voice interrupted them.

“Pardon the intrusion, but...would you like some assistance?”  The man chuckled.  “I could take the photograph for you, if you wish.”

Something about the man’s voice made the hair on the back of Ignis’ neck stand at attention.  It was a momentary flash of a feeling, yet Ignis could not banish it entirely.  

“Uh...sure.”  Prompto seemed a little hesitant to hand over his camera, but the red-haired man gave him a smile that was part disarming and part unsettling.  “Just be careful with her!”  Prompto tried to force some cheer into his voice as the stranger looked through the viewfinder.

“All together now.”  He waited a moment until they were all positioned properly before pushing the button.  “There.  I’d say that’s a lovely shot.”  He smiled and returned the camera to Prompto.

“Thanks.”  Prompto seemed far more relieved to have the camera back in hand and he checked that the picture had come out as he wanted.

“Ah, you were number eight?”  The man tilted his head at Ignis curiously.  “Congratulations on your stunning performance.  It must be difficult to work under such...circumstances.”

Gladio felt his hackles rise and he took a step forward, trying to insert himself between Ignis and this stranger.  But Ignis lifted his chin and he placed a firm hand on Gladio’s arm, wordlessly telling him that he had it under control..

“No more difficult than working in any new kitchen would be,” he said.  “I’m sorry, but I don’t believe I caught your name.”

The man smiled, tipping his fedora to the rest of the group at large.  “A man of no consequence.”

Ignis’ smile thinned at that.  “Oh, I doubt that very much.  The way you expertly handled Prompto’s rather complex camera without guidance, as well as the fact that you have an intimate knowledge of my success in the audition, tells me that you are, indeed, someone of consequence.  The question is just who you are.”

The man’s lips curled into a smile and he chuckled lowly; the sound of it made Prompto’s skin crawl.  “Your intelligence is unparalleled,” he said, but Noctis had a feeling that it was not, in fact, a compliment.  “I’m not one to stand on ceremony, but such an occasion calls for an introduction.  Please, call me Ardyn.  I am but a simple cameraman and editor.”

That last sentence, more than anything else that Ardyn could have said, made Ignis feel as if someone had dropped a lead ball into his stomach.  A cameraman  _ and _ an editor who, for some reason, had apparently taken a liking to him after commenting on his _ circumstances _ .  He could kiss his chances of a dignified portrayal goodbye.

“People usually pick one or the other,” Prompto pointed out, his eyes fixing on Ardyn.  “Either one is a full-time job, after all.”

Noctis could see the way Prompto was bristling and he wanted to speak up as well.  But there was just  _ something _ about this guy that made him bite his tongue.  He didn’t want to make things worse for Ignis if he said something now.

“Ah, how true,” Ardyn agreed thoughtfully.  “However, I find that my craft is far too delicate to entrust one half of the process to another.”  He opened his arms in a grand gesture.  “Look around you.  Every one of these fine subjects has an amazing story to tell.  But if I, as a humble editor, turn the job to someone else, how can I ensure that they get every piece of that story?”  He tilted his head towards Noctis now.  “And if I, as a simple cameraman, capture every piece of that story and hand it over to someone else to piece together, how can I guarantee that the editor will craft the story as I see it?”

The fact that he had said “ _ as I see it _ ” left Ignis more than a little unsettled.  He hadn’t said “ _ as it is _ ”; he had quite heavily implied that this was going to be a creation of his own design.  

Gladio bit back a low growl.  The implication hung clear in the air and now he hated even more that he had to leave Ignis’ side.  It wasn’t like he thought Ardyn would lay a hand on Ignis, but it was the fact that the other man held all of the power in the palm of his hand.  Combined with Ignis’ general disdain for how editors could manipulate the audience into viewing a person as they saw fit, it was an ugly combination.

“I’m sure that you are quite talented at your job,” Ignis said, again firmly keeping his hand on Gladio’s arm.  “If you’ll excuse me, sir, I must bid my friends farewell.”  He turned his attention away from Ardyn now, carefully sweeping his long cane along so he could find the quickest path to get them the hell away from this man.

After a number of steps, Gladio rested a gentle hand on Ignis’ shoulder.  “Hey, he’s turned his attention to someone else now,” he murmured quietly.  “We’re good.”

Ignis let out a slow breath as he turned back toward the others.  “I apologize,” he said.  But before he could open his mouth to elaborate, Prompto interrupted.

“Uh, don’t be,” he said with a frown.  “I’m getting a real bad vibe from that guy.  I don’t blame you for wanting to avoid him.”  Gladio watched the blond look around as if trying to figure out just where Ardyn was hiding.  “Just...try not to give him anything he can work with,” Prompto suggested.  “I know that might be hard, with how much they’re going to be pressuring you in the challenge, but...as long as you don’t do anything really ridiculous, there’s only so much he can make people see.”

Ignis’ smile was fond.  With anyone else, he might have been ruffled by the implication that he was apt to misbehave in front of a camera, but with Prompto?  Ignis knew that the man was looking out for him.  “Thank you,” he said warmly.  “I appreciate your advice, and I will endeavor to ensure that I am on my best behavior.”  There was a light tease to his voice.  “There will be no wild displays from me, that I can promise.”

Gladio laughed at the thought, making sure there were no cameras nearby before he leaned in to speak.  “No ‘Iggy Gone Wild’, huh?” he chuckled.  “I’m almost disappointed.”

“Gods,  _ no _ ,” Noctis groaned like he was in pain.  “Gonna take a lot of alcohol to unsee  _ that _ mental image.”

Ignis sucked his teeth before fixing Gladio with a  _ look _ .  “That’s enough of that,” he said, though he was still smiling.  He seemed to want to say more, but a voice interrupted him.

“Competitors numbers 3 and 8!” the producer called.  “We’re still waiting for you to come get your keys!”

Gladio sighed.  “Sounds like you’ve gotta go,” he said.

“Iggy!  Good luck!”  Prompto grinned and briefly embraced the man.  “Don’t forget to write home, alright?  We’ll hold down the fort for you!”

To his surprise, Ignis patted his back in return before withdrawing.  “I will be sure to write,” he said warmly.  “Do tell me how things are going for you, hm?  I’m looking forward to all of the pictures that you’ll describe to me.”

Prompto grinned.  “Yeah, ‘course!”

“We’ll keep Gladio busy,” Noct promised.  “So he’s not just moping around the apartment without you.”

Ignis chuckled and patted Noctis’ shoulder.  “I trust you,” he said.  “Though I feel that Gladio is capable of entertaining himself.  Please send your father my regards as well, and do take care to make sure that you are sleeping enough.  I know you are covering my job as well as yours, but I want you to take care of yourself.”

“Yeah, yeah.”  Noctis sighed, though his smile was fond.  “I’ll be fine.”

“Gladio.”  Ignis gave the larger man a look.  “Please be sure he isn’t just ordering out every night.  And Cup Noodles are  _ not _ an acceptable substitute.”

Gladio scowled slightly as his jaw snapped shut.  Ignis knew him too damn well sometimes, but his annoyance was forgotten as Ignis let out a relaxed laugh at the noise.  He would give anything to let Ignis sound that happy and content every day of his life.

“Alright, now.”  Ignis smiled and looped his arms around Gladio’s waist, surprising the larger man as he was tugged in close.  Ignis lowered his voice so that only Gladio would hear him. “Don’t be too concerned, hmm, love?  I won’t be gone for long.”

“You stay as long as you need and show these people who’s boss.”  Gladio smirked a little and brought his hand up to rub at Ignis’ cheek gently.

Ignis smiled before bringing their lips together in a soft kiss that lingered longer than usual.  He was just as reluctant to part as he knew Gladio was, but he did have to go.  “I’ll be in touch,” he promised softly.   
  
“I know.”  Gladio lowered his voice even more and whispered softly.  “I love you.”   
  
Ignis’ smile was helpless and fond as he reached up to stroke Gladio’s cheek.  “And I love you.”  With one last gentle peck, he withdrew and reluctantly disengaged from Gladio’s arms.  

Gladio felt it in his chest when Ignis turned away from him and began to walk towards the producer to get his hotel key.  Though he was going to miss the hell out of Ignis until he came home, he couldn’t be more proud, watching him go and leave behind the comfort of familiarity.  He smiled before turning his back on the soundstage and following Noctis and Prompto back to the main road.

…

It was nearly midnight when Ignis fell into bed, utterly exhausted.  He lay a hand across his eyes, exhaling slowly.  He’d been awake for nearly 24 hours by this point, aside from the brief rest that he had, curled up against Gladio’s chest on the airplane, and he _felt_ it.

The last few hours had seemed fuzzy around the edges as if in a dream, though the sardonic part of Ignis realized that this was probably a result of his complete exhaustion.  There had been a whirlwind of cameras and questions after winning the white apron which had eaten up a lot of the early evening.  During that time, the final two competitors had been chosen, though Ignis was busy and did not get to hear much about who those two were.

Ignis shifted on the bed, sighing softly.  His computer was open next to him, his email the only tab open at the moment.  His computer had verbally alerted him that there were no new messages, which he expected.  The others were still likely flying home, but he couldn’t help but feel a touch lonely.  Belatedly Ignis realized that it had been quite a number of years since he was well and truly  _ alone _ .  Even nights where Gladio was away, visiting his sister and father for a weekend during the times that Ignis couldn’t leave because of work, he at least had Tribble.  He quite missed the sound of her purring as she pressed her fat little body against his face.

But now he had nobody other than his own thoughts, and none of the sounds and smells that were familiar to him.  Ignis swallowed a little.

He was very much independent and prideful - he and Gladio had their own lives to live but came together - but it didn’t mean that he wasn’t affected by loneliness.

Suddenly his computer made a noise, verbally indicating that he had an email.  Ignis shifted towards the sound, reaching out to touch the button that would allow him to listen to the email.

The computer’s readout was monotone, but Ignis smiled when he heard the sender.

 

_ From: Gladiolus Amicitia _

_ Subject: For you _

 

_ Hey, Iggy.  I sent this on a delay in case we didn’t get back before you went to bed.  You’re probably in the hotel by now, your white apron hung neatly in the closet as you’re thinking about maybe, finally going to sleep. _

(Ignis smiled fondly; Gladio knew him all too well.  The apron had been hung delicately the instant he’d gotten into the room.)

_ So...I realized that you haven’t  _ really _ been alone since we moved in together.  Now, you’re a strong, independent man - it’s one of the things I love about you - but if you’re missing home already, then I want you to look in your bag. _

_ Iris hid a little stuffed cat in there before you left.  She’s so soft, and she looks just like Tribble.  She doesn’t purr the same way, but Iris said then at least you’re not in a hotel room all by yourself. _

(Ignis had already begun to rummage through his bag when his fingers met the soft, silken fur of the toy.  She felt almost as silky as the real Tribble, and he smiled wistfully as he removed the cat from the depths of his luggage and tucked her under his arm.)

_ Ugh.  I’m embarrassed to tell you what else is in there.  You’re either gonna think it’s really sweet, or you’re gonna think it’s completely over the top and weird.  ...alright, I put one of my hoodies in there.  You know, my favorite one I bought in college that you kept stealing when you thought I wasn’t looking?  Well, it’s yours until you come home.  I...kinda forgot to wash it, though.  Sorry.  You can have them wash it at the hotel or whatever if you want.  Just bring it back, I still _ really _ like that one. _

_ Just wanted you to know I love you, and I’m proud of you.  No matter how far you go, you’re  _ my  _ master chef. _

_ Love, _

_ Gladio _

 

Quickly Ignis dug through his luggage before his fingers found the familiar fabric.  The hoodie was soft and well worn, thinned out from its years of love and wear.  The French terry fabric was almost like a favorite towel, and Ignis loved how it felt against his skin with nothing else underneath.  (The results that the sight of him in the hoodie and nothing else had yielded from a very amorous Gladio, though...a lovely experiment that he wished to repeat.)  Though he had not seen the color in years, he remembered the dark grey fabric and the red printed lettering when he closed his eyes.  Memories of Gladio wearing the hoodie, bought a little big so it would hang loosely on his frame, assaulted his mind and Ignis hummed softly.  The ridiculously versatile garment had looked good when worn with just about anything, especially on Gladio - with those dark jeans he loved on a casual date night, with sweatpants when he jogged home from the gym in the middle of January, with just boxers as he stumbled into the bedroom after an all-nighter of studying, or with absolutely nothing underneath it on a lazy Saturday afternoon as they traded kisses on the too-small couch that had been gifted to them.

Ignis told himself it was the exhaustion more than anything that led him to rub his cheek against the fabric.  It was less embarrassing that way.  But as he brought it up to his face, he realized that there was a familiar, comforting scent enveloping the fabric.  There was that hint of bearglove combined with aftershave that just smelled like  _ Gladio _ and a touch of eucalyptus that reminded him of the pillow spray that he occasionally used after a stressful day of work.  And as he ran his hand along the garment, Ignis smiled when his hand met a clump of cat fur.  Clearly Tribble had been nesting with the hoodie since the last time he’d seen it, and she was very obviously in the midst of shedding season.  Yet Ignis couldn’t bring himself to remove it, just for tonight.

  
It smelled and felt like  _ home _ , and that let him finally close his eyes and relax into sleep, his arm curled around a tiny stuffed cat and his face buried in the hoodie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for hanging out, everyone! So one big change I made from my knowledge of the real competition is that competitors are allowed to send emails/texts/phone calls home. It just didn't seem right to completely cut everyone off. Of course they can't talk about the competition itself, really, but this leaves room for some later interactions that I think you'll all like :)
> 
> Hopefully I'm writing Ardyn okay, as I've never written him before. I'd rather he not be a tropey stereotype, so I'll do my best!
> 
> The full lineup of competitors will be revealed next chapter, and the tags will be updated accordingly!
> 
>  
> 
> _(Stop editing this already, banjkazfan)_


	6. Introductions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignis finally gets to meet the other competitors, and he remembers just how inedible hotel breakfast buffets are.

Ignis jerked awake the next morning when his phone rang at 5:30.  He groaned quietly when he realized that he had never changed his alarms that were typically set for work.

Well...it wasn’t as if he’d slept particularly soundly, anyway.  He’d been so tired he hadn’t even gotten under the sheets, for goodness’ sakes; he’d passed out right on top of the comforter.  The bed was far too uncomfortable for his liking, and far too _empty_.  Though having the stuffed Tribble and Gladio’s hoodie had helped, it still wasn’t quite enough.  His neck ached from the position he’d fallen asleep in and Ignis winced as he tried to roll his neck only to be met with a sharp throb of pain.

Not a very glamorous start to his first day in California.

The instructions they’d all received last night indicated that breakfast would be at 8, so that gave Ignis plenty of time to shower and prepare himself to meet with the other contestants.  He should probably unpack as well - just another thing that had gone undone due to his exhaustion.  Ignis sighed.

The bed shifted and his laptop nudged against his hip as Ignis sat up, waking the machine.  “ _You have: two new messages._ ”

Two?  Ignis leaned over to touch the key, intending to begin unpacking as he listened.

 

_From: Prompto Argentum_

_Subject: We’re home!_   


_Hey Iggs!  So it’s ridiculously late here, but we’re all settled and home.  Noct wanted to let you know himself, but he fell asleep as soon as he got in.  I’m crashing with him for the night, just to make sure he gets up in the morning.  We dropped Gladio off at your place, but I think he was heading to bed pretty quickly too._

_Also try not to let that Ardyn guy get to you.  He seems kind of creepy, but like I said, there’s not much he can do if you don’t give him a show.  Just don’t be like that one guy on Kitchen Nightmares and even the best editor will have a problem making you look bad._

_Not much to say, just wanted to let you know we’re all home safe.  I’ll check on ya again soon!_

__\- Prompto_ _

 

Ignis smiled.  That was thoughtful.  He hadn’t expected to hear from any of them due to how late they would be arriving at home, but the fact that Prompto had taken the time to let him know was appreciated, as was his advice.  What was particularly amusing to him was that there were so _many_ people that fit Prompto’s description of what to avoid.  He made a mental note to reply before he went downstairs.

The second message began to play after the first one.

 

_From: Gladiolus Amicitia_

_Subject: Home_

 

_Hey Iggy.  It’s...really late here, but I just got in.  I’m about ready to pass out, so I can’t even imagine how you’re feeling now.  Honestly?  I hope you’re sleeping.  You deserve it after the day you had._

_Write me when you can, but don’t let it distract you from what you’re doing.  I know you already got another message from me earlier, but I wanted you to know I love you.  And yeah, I’m gonna miss you, but I can’t wait for you to go as far as you can._

_I’ll email you again soon, alright?  Good luck meeting everyone tomorrow - hope they’re not all a bunch of weirdos, haha._

_Love,_

_Gladio <3 _

 

He chuckled quietly at Gladio’s last thought.  Part of Ignis wished that he’d been able to see the other competitors work as they’d competed, as he was immensely curious the calibre of the cooks that he would be up against.  But he figured that would come soon enough.

Getting his things organized and having a hot shower immensely helped to wake Ignis up, and he was in a far better state than he’d been when his alarm had gone off.  He styled his hair and dressed himself quickly but carefully, wanting to ensure that his appearance was immaculate.  First impressions, after all.

He was left with just enough time to dictate two emails to Gladio and Prompto, thanking them for the updates.  He wished he had the time to linger and write more, particularly to Gladio, but that would come later after he’d met the other competitors.

Speaking of.  It was time to make his way downstairs.  Ignis took his long cane in hand and made his way down to the hotel dining room.

As he entered the room, the producer from the previous evening called over to him.  “Mr. Scientia?  This way.  We have a table set up for everyone here.”

Ignis navigated his way towards her voice and gave her a polite smile as he stopped by the edge of the table.  “Good morning,” he said warmly.  “I appreciate your assistance.  Has anyone else arrived yet?”

“No, you’re the first one.”  She smiled.  “It shouldn’t be long before others start making their way down.  You’re free to eat now or wait until everyone arrives; the breakfast buffet will be opening soon.”

Privately Ignis was thankful that there was a kitchenette in the room in which he was staying.  He’d stayed in a number of hotels over the years and always found the buffets to be...lacking.  He would much rather prepare his own meals whenever possible, though he suspected that filming days would be so long that it might not always be feasible.  He supposed he would find out today.

“This seat taken?”  A lower but distinctly feminine voice approached from behind him and to his left.  She did not wait for an answer, though, and dropped into the seat next to Ignis with little noise.  “Hey.  Heard you made quite a stir in there.  Monkey boy didn’t stand a chance with how he was climbing the walls beforehand, though.”  Her voice changed slightly and Ignis could tell she had turned more to face him, having been in profile before.  “Name’s Aranea.  I’m looking forward to seeing what you can do in there.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Aranea.”  Ignis inclined his head towards her.  “My name is Ignis.”

Before they could get more into conversation, however, more voices approached the table.  The producer greeted everyone as they began to settle in, waiting until the last contestant was seated.

“Good morning, everyone,” she said cheerily.  “Well, we’re all together for the first time!  I want everyone to take a good look around at your competition.  You’re all going to be together for the next few weeks at least, up to two months, so study up!”

Bless her, she didn’t seem to recognize her choice of words.  Ignis couldn’t be upset.  It was a common turn of phrase and he didn’t expect everyone to monitor their language simply for him.  He chuckled to himself, settled back in his seat, and wondered, not for the first time, what his other competitors looked like.  He couldn’t really complete their mental pictures in his mind and decided he’d have to ask someone to describe them later.

To her credit, the producer seemed to realize her mistake and quickly amended her statement.  “But since we haven’t all been formally introduced, why don’t we each go around and say our names and an interesting fact about ourselves?”

Internally Ignis winced.  He’d never been one for talking about himself much and being asked to list something _interesting_ about himself was pretty low on his list of priorities.  What qualified as _interesting_ , anyways?  He supposed, as always, he’d listen to others and try to base his fact off of theirs.

Ignis could hear shuffling as everyone looked around, presumably waiting for someone else to start first, and he smirked to himself.  Nobody was interested in playing, apparently.  Someone awkwardly coughed.  A chair screeched and footsteps retreated as, presumably, another person went to raid the buffet to avoid this game.

“Well…”  The producer sounded a little uncertain.  Clearly she wasn’t used to nobody wanting to jump right in and play her fun ‘getting-to-know-you’ games.  “Um.  Maybe it would be better if we got something to eat first?”

“Sorry, sugar.”  A warm but tired voice answered her.  “We’re all a’bit _tired_ after the excitement yesterday.  Let us get somethin’ to eat first, yeah?”

A quiet murmur of agreement went through the group as they all stood.  Ignis rose as well, following the general sound of footsteps towards the breakfast buffet.  From what he could smell, it was at least a little better than standard hotel fare.  The eggs, of course, still smelled a little dodgy, but there was at least coffee.  Ignis decided to use the machine which dispensed batter and made himself a waffle.  He could smell bacon as well - at least he was pretty sure that’s what it was _supposed_ to be - and decided to give it a hard pass.  Bacon was generally saved as a treat for him, and this particular brand of bacon was anything but.  Instead he took some of the fresh berries to go with the waffle.

Ignis heard everyone else sitting down as he sat, listening carefully to the different tones of their plates hitting the table.  He could tell that most of the others were choosing to eat light as well - except for one plate off to his right which came down with a particularly heavy _thunk_.  He raised a curious brow.  Far be it from him to judge.  

Ignis took the first bite of his waffle and grimaced.  Already he was thinking about purchasing himself some groceries because he could _not_ eat this every day.

“Well...now that we all have food…”  The producer sounded as if she was trying to recover.  “Who’d like to start with their name and interesting fact?”

The silence didn’t last as uncomfortably long this time.  “Very well then.  If nobody else is keen to start, I suppose I should.”  A young, accented voice spoke up from Ignis’ immediate right, his voice playful and mild.  “My name is Balthier.  As for my interesting fact…”  He paused dramatically, thinking it over.  “I’ve been the leading man in at least five productions back in our hometown.”

“Very interesting.”  The producer nodded and she sounded _relieved_ that someone had finally answered..  “Thank you for getting us started, Balthier.  We’ll go around in a circle from there.”

The next speaker was very measured in her tone.  “My name is Fran.  There is nothing interesting to add.”  Ignis heard a crunch as she returned to her meal; was that dry toast?  Perhaps her stomach was unsettled.

“Now Fran…”  The producer sounded almost desperate.  “I’m sure there’s _something_ interesting you can tell us about yourself?”  Ignis almost felt bad for her, with how hard she was trying.  Clearly she was young and this was her first big assignment, and she just wanted to engage them all.

Fran did not answer for a moment, though Ignis thought he heard the tiniest of sighs from her.  Nobody else would have heard it with how tightly she kept it under control, he figured.  “Very well,” she said after a beat, and it sounded indulgent.  “I enjoy spending time in the city.”  She had the tiniest lisp to go with her unusual accent; Ignis had never heard a voice quite like hers.

There was a brief pause while they all waited to see if she had anything to add.  Clearly Fran was quite reserved and did not wish to say more, and thankfully the producer had the sense to leave it be.  “Thank you.  Next…?”

“Hey.  Name’s Dino.”  Ignis was aurally bowled over by how thick his New England accent was, and he could nearly hear the smirk in the other man’s voice.  “My innerstin’ fact is that I got a real talent for makin’ jewelry.”  He did a little clicking noise with his tongue that makes Ignis frown a little.  “Think I can give you ladies some free samples, if you’re innerested.”

“ _Ugh_.”  Ignis heard Aranea grunt in displeasure next to him.

“Okay, _thank you,_ Dino,” the producer cut in, hurriedly stopping that train of thought before it completely wrecked.  “Next, please?”

The next voice was warm and bubbly as the owner introduced herself.  “Howdy, y’all!  I’m Cindy.  And my in’trestin’ fact is that I _love_ working on cars with Paw-Paw!”  Ignis recognized her as the one who had gently hinted to the producer that they should eat breakfast earlier and he smiled.  She seemed very friendly, and her infectious personality was quite welcoming.

“My name is Weskham.”  The next man had a deep voice with an edge of a rumble to it, and Ignis could immediately tell that this man was older.  “The only thing interesting about me is that I know how to handle a firearm.”  He chuckled a little and Ignis listened as it dipped into a lower register.  “It’s just for sport.”

Interesting.  Ignis thought he had detected a faint whiff of gunpowder earlier but wasn’t sure exactly where it came from.  He took a thoughtful bite of his waffle as he listened to the next introduction.

“Hello!  I’m Coctura.”  This woman’s voice was lilting and warm.  Ignis was reminded of the “retail voice” that Prompto had mentioned having to put on when he worked at the grocery store, but her voice sounded genuine where Prompto’s occasionally sounded strained under stress.  “I just _love_ cats!  There’s one near the little food cart I work and I just can’t help myself from feeding him!”  The slight hiss on each of her “c” and “s” sounds was quite endearing.

“That’s adorable.”  The producer smiled.  “Okay, who’s left?”

“Howdy.”  The next voice had a low southern drawl like Cindy’s, though Ignis noted that it wasn’t quite as deep as Weskham’s voice.  “Name’s Takka.  And my fact?  Well, I work at the only diner in the lil’ town of Hammerhead.”

“Well, ain’t that somethin’!”  Cindy laughed from somewhere off to the right.  “I’m from Hammerhead, too!  Can’t believe I’ve never seen ya ‘round.”

“Wow!  Small world.”  The producer smiled.  Clearly the activity seemed to be going better than earlier and she felt comfortable speaking up once more.  “Just three of you left.”

A delicate, soft voice spoke up next.  “Good morning.  My name is Garnet.”  Ignis faintly heard the sound of her smoothing down the front of her shirt.  “I suppose the most interesting thing about me is that I love reading and I love the theatre.  My favorite play is _I Want to Be Your Canary_.”

“By Lord Avon?”  Balthier interrupted this time.  “Wonderful story.  I played the part of Marcus when we performed the play in Ivalice.”

“Really now?” Garnet seemed quite interested.  “I would like to discuss it with you sometime, if you are willing.  I have always been curious about Marcus’ motivations, particularly just before intermission.”

The producer clapped her hands excitedly.  “I love seeing you all beginning to build relationships!  This is wonderful!”

Oops, there was that awkward silence again.  Balthier coughed and Ignis cleared his throat and busied himself with a raspberry.  Goodness, she was eager, wasn’t she?

“Right.”  Aranea sighed from Ignis’ left side.  “I’m Aranea.  And my ‘interesting story’ - ”  Ignis could hear the sarcasm - “ - is that I’m ex-military.  And if you ask me about it, you’re getting your ass kicked.”  Her nonchalance about every word she spoke was the most fascinating part about her, Ignis felt.  

Belatedly Ignis realized that left just him, and he still had no interesting fact of which to speak.  He adjusted his shades and set down his fork to buy himself another moment.  “Good morning,” he greeted them.  “I am Ignis.”  He paused as his brain scrambled for _anything_ with which to fill the silence.  He knew they were all expecting him to share something monumental, or perhaps to fill the blanks about his injuries, to explain why a _blind man_ was on Masterchef.  He refused to give them that, but what could he give them instead?

“...I have a cat.”

Well.  That wasn’t really what he’d intended to come out.  As lovely as Tribble was, she wasn’t exactly the focus of his social conversations.  He felt the back of his neck heat up slightly in shame.

But it was just enough for some of the others.  “Oh, my gosh,” Coctura said with a clear grin in her voice.  “What’s her name?  I bet she’s adorable!”

Ignis was so caught off guard by her enthusiasm that he answered without a thought.  “Ah, her name is Tribble,” he replied.

Coctura let out a little noise that Ignis swore he heard out of Prompto the first time he’d seen the cat.  “Like from Star Trek?  That’s positively _precious_!”

“W-well, yes, she can be.”  Ignis’ hand came up to his shades once more to adjust them, almost hiding behind them.  He was saved from further humiliation by the producer interrupting.

“Fantastic!  So we all know each other now.”  There was the shuffling sound of papers as she gathered her thoughts.  “Filming will start bright and early tomorrow at 7:30 am.  Please be awake and in the lobby, ready to take the shuttle over to the soundstage, by seven.  Breakfast will be available again, but if you’d rather make something in your kitchenettes beforehand that’s fine.”  Ignis swore he heard a few sighs of relief at that.  Clearly not everyone was impressed with the food.  “We’ll film straight through the given challenge.  What time we wrap up depends on what needs filmed that day.  That will vary.”  She flipped a page and continued.  “Before challenges begin or after challenges are finished, you may be interviewed about them.  Not all of you will be spoken to about every challenge; it’ll depend on what sorts of things happen.”

Unbidden, Ignis remembered the words of Ardyn and frowned slightly.   _As he sees fit…_  Just what would happen to catch the camera’s lens throughout the challenges?

“And at such time as you are eliminated…”  The producer paused.  Was she trying to build drama or just read her notes?  Ignis couldn’t be sure.  “The shuttle will bring you back while everyone finishes filming.  You’ll pack your things and be taken to the airport from here.”

The mood became a bit more somber at that.  Nobody was planning to be eliminated any time soon, but it was something they had to consider.  There would be only one winner, after all.  The numbers were not on their side.  It was just a matter of who would fall first.

Learning their names and learning something ‘interesting’ about each of his competitors had made them _human_.  They all had hopes and dreams and reasons for wanting to become the next Masterchef, and each felt in their hearts that they would be the one.

Ignis sat up a little straighter.  There was a flame of determination in every person around this table, and he could not let himself rest.  He would not be caught off guard by any of them, no matter how pleasant or genuine or warm they seemed.

He had a mission of his own, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience on this update, everyone! Not only did I have a quick travel this weekend, but I had a _lot_ of trouble figuring out just how to write everyone's introductions. It was challenging to characterize people based on their voices, but thanks to some amazing help from Kurawr, Twitchy_Pendulum, and Chocobo Goddess, I finally figured out exactly how to do it. I think it was Pen in particular who suggested that I close my eyes and imagine what Ignis would hear so I did! I popped in headphones, closed my eyes, and listened to every canon voice that existed for these characters. I might be going a touch overboard writing some of the accents, but I'm really trying to write it as Ignis would hear it. If it becomes a problem, I can rethink it for future chapters.
> 
> I hope the lineup is what everyone was hoping! It's changed quite a few times, but I think I'm finally happy with it :)
> 
> (Don't think too hard/ask about the layout of this world. You can consider Ivalice, Insomnia, Hammerhead, Alexandria, etc. to be cities/towns in the US for simplicity's sake.)
> 
> If you're enjoying this, please drop a kudos or a comment? I love getting to talk to people about the story and it means the world to me to know that people are taking my crackish little idea as seriously as I had hoped they would. <3 Thank you all!


	7. Mystery Box, pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A competitor comes out of the wings to introduce himself, and Ignis faces his first Mystery Box challenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this has taken so long! As I've been telling my friends on our Chill XV group, this fic is an interesting challenge. I'll talk more about it at the end if you're interested in reading. For now, this chapter is dedicated to all of my friends who have helped and encouraged me, particularly AtropaAzraelle, NocturnalRaine, and KuraNova, as this probably would have taken even longer without you all. <3

The first thing that Ignis was beginning to learn about television was that when someone said ‘starts promptly at 7:30’, it did not, in fact, mean ‘starts promptly at 7:30’.

It was about 8:15 by this point and he was already feeling more than a little anxious to begin. He’d been outfitted with a microphone promptly upon arriving and couldn’t help but feel rather exposed; he’d said far less than usual for fear of whatever he said being captured on film. But currently some of the pre-interviews were being done, capturing impressions of what their first challenge was going to be about.  They had not asked every cook, only pulling aside a few, and Ignis wondered if he would be one of the few.  Monica sat by his side as she listened and watched the goings-on so she would be able to give Ignis an indication of what was going to be happening.

She leaned a little closer as she saw a figure heading their way.  “Ignis, there’s someone coming in our direction.”  She quickly described the man, though Ignis had no name to put with that face just yet.  The description of his height, slicked up ash blonde hair, and light eyes meant little to him at the moment, but he filed it away for when the man introduced himself.

“Hey.  You, ah...you’re Ignis, right?”  There was that thick New England accent again.  Ignis immediately remembered the other man, Dino, and quickly assigned the mental picture that Monica had given him to the voice.

“I am.”  He stood to put himself properly on height with the other man.  “Is there something I can do for you?”

“Nah, fuhggedaboudit.”  Dino’s tone was incredibly casual.  “Just scopin’ out the competition, seein’ what I’m up against.”  He paused, seeming to feel awkward about his word choice.  “Wait, I didn’t mean - ”

Ignis cut him off with a firm wave of his hand.  While he appreciated the effort that people made to not offend him, he was also more than a little exasperated with everyone walking on eggshells around him when they first met.  “As I think you’d say, ‘fuhgeddaboudit’.”  He smirked slightly when he heard the other man chortle in surprise.  “I do not expect everyone to monitor their language and it doesn’t offend me.  I am quite used to it, thank you.”

The other man seemed to relax at that, likely happier with not having to censor himself.  “Yeah, sure thing.”  A rustle of clothing indicated that he was patting himself down.  Based on Monica’s brief description, it sounded as if appearances were very important to him.  “The name’s Dino, by the way,” he said.  “Pleasure.”

“Likewise,” Ignis replied.  He waited for a moment, expecting Dino would leave once he was finished with his introduction, but there was no telltale sound of retreating footsteps and he sighed internally.  “Is there something else that I can help you with, Dino?”

“Nah.”  He dismissed Ignis’ question.  “Just...just thinkin’, sorry.  Uh...do you know what anyone here looks like?”

The question caught Ignis off guard.  Nobody had...ever really asked him that since had arrived.  And Monica, of course, had been describing people who spoke directly to him, but they had agreed that it would be better to hold off on describing every person in the room unless they specifically came to address him.  For the first day, at least.  He wondered why Dino was asking.  It was far too personal a question for someone he’d only just met.

“I know what you look like,” he finally responded.  Ignis didn’t elaborate further on how Monica described everyone to him.  He felt more than a little uncomfortable describing his methods of visualizing his world with someone he barely knew, but it felt rude to just dismiss the man without so much as a word.

“Alright, fair enough.”  Dino seemed satisfied with the answer.  “You want the inside scoop on some’a these people?”  Ignis could practically hear the smirk in his voice.

Ignis recoiled slightly.  “The inside scoop?” he repeated slowly.  What in the world was this man getting at, and why did he think that Ignis would be interested?  He had always prided himself on being able to read into people’s tone, words, and body language to figure out their angle, but that was before…Ignis tried not to think about it too much.

“Yeah, the inside scoop,” Dino repeated.  Before I came here, I was working as a reporter.  “It’s my job to get down to the meat of a person, an’ I’ve been keepin’ an eye on everyone here since we all got here.  Thought you might appreciate the leg up.”

Something about that made Ignis very,  _ very  _ uneasy.  Just what would the man ask for in return for this information?  He highly doubted that it would be out of the goodness of his heart, and Ignis wasn’t interested in trying to set up some sort of alliance.  He was here to win on his own merit, not because someone had taken  _ pity _ on him.

“I’m not interested,” he finally said.  “Thank you for your...kind offer, but I will manage without.”  He couldn’t help a bit of sharpness bleeding into his tone as he sat back down.

Yet he still did not hear the footsteps recede.  He tried to keep his frustrated huff to himself.

“Alright,” Dino finally said, sounding resigned.  “I getcha.  Have it’chyour way, then.  But I’ll give you this one for free.”  Ignis could sense Dino leaning closer and he fought the urge to lean back.  “Everyone’s talkin’ about  _ you _ .  They all want to know just who the blind chef is; what his story is.  You got us all curious, Ignis, and if you’re hopin’ you can skate by with your head down...well, I don’t think it’s gonna happen.  You’re too high-profile, so t’speak.”  Yet when Ignis listened beyond the words, he didn’t hear a threat.  Was it possible that Dino was actually keeping an eye out for him?  “Just watch yer back.  We’re all playin’ for keeps.”

Finally,  _ finally _ , Ignis could hear his footsteps as Dino turned and walked away.  He let out a slow sigh and settled back into his seat.  So much for being able to keep to himself.

Ignis heard the rustle of clothing as Monica shifted and leaned closer to him.  “Are you alright?” she murmured.

He wearily chuckled.  “None the worse for wear.  He certainly was persistent, wasn’t he.”  Yet he couldn’t stop thinking about the way that Dino had described him:  _ the blind chef. _  He tensed.  This is exactly why he hadn’t wanted to come out and compete.  He knew that the label would be slapped on so fast that he’d be left reeling from the impact and lose his footing in the competition.

Was it better to go home?  It would let him quietly live out his life, making progress at his own pace and being surrounded by people who loved him.  He thought of Noctis, of Prompto, of Tribble, of Iris, of Gladio…

And then he thought about how hard each of them had worked to get him here.  Noctis had come up with the idea in the first place and had arranged the audition tape.  Prompto had likely been the one to film and edit under Noctis’ supervision.  Tribble, despite being a cat, had sensed that he would be gone for a while and had spent most of his final evening at home either in his lap, purring loudly enough that he’d be able to hear and feel it.  Iris had always been a pillar of support to Gladio, and by proxy, to Ignis - when he had first learned how to get around with his mobility cane, Iris had cheerfully stepped in and asked if he would show her around the offices at his job; Ignis had recognized that she was letting him practice and attempting to help but had disguised it under the ruse of Ignis taking the lead.

And Gladio.

Ignis would never be able to say enough for what Gladio had done for him.  His eternal love and support helped Ignis get through every day.  And with how  _ proud _ he’d been to see Ignis, ready to go out and show the world what he could do, Ignis had never felt so...respected.  Cherished.   _Loved._  He knew that Gladio was still there, even if not in person, cheering him on from home.

He couldn’t leave.  

He was pulled from his thoughts by the producer’s voice.  “Contestants!  Are you ready?  We’re going to have you head inside the Masterchef kitchen for your first challenge!”

She ran through the general rules for the first challenge, which would be a Mystery Box challenge.  Mystery Box challenges presented each chef with secret ingredients, hidden under a box and unable to be seen before the challenge started.  The most important aspect was that contestants would only have access to a staple pantry box and not to the rest of the pantry.  The staples included things such as eggs, butter, flour, and a variety of simple spices.  Otherwise, they would not be able to choose their own ingredients.  They would have no access to the pantry.  Nearly anything could be under the box, from a vegetable to a protein.

Once the cameras were rolling, they were led into the kitchens.  Ignis could sense the burning lenses of the cameras fixed on them as they entered, and he felt Monica’s presence beside him.  She was there if he needed an arm, but Ignis noticed that most people were, in fact, giving him a wide berth.

They made their way to the station.  Ignis couldn’t tell exactly where it was in relation to the rest, but when he heard the chefs spoke, all he knew is that he was not directly at the front of the room; their voices were too far away for that to be the case.

“Good morning, home cooks!”  Tosi’s voice was clear and bright despite the early hour, and Ignis couldn’t help but smile himself.  “Are you ready for your first Mystery Box challenge?”

“Yes, chef!”  Ten voices answered her, and Ignis could put together a decent picture of where many of the others stood based on where he’d heard their voices come from.  Dino was clearly at the back, and Aranea was in front of him.  He was pretty sure that was Balthier to his right, and Garnet was behind him.   By Ignis’ calculation, that put him about halfway up - not at the front, but not at the back.

Sánchez began to address the group at large.  “Alright, home cooks.  Today is your first Mystery Box challenge.  Under that box in front of you is going to be a secret ingredient that you have to use in your dishes today.”

Ignis held his hands out, but stopped a breath away from the box.  He wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch it beforehand, as he knew that some people would find it to be an unfair advantage.  Though in truth it would only put him on equal footing with the other home cooks, as they could see the box, and he could not “see” it without touching.

Monica glanced up when she noticed Ramsay trying to get her attention.  The two had a brief, silent exchange, and she leaned over to Ignis.  “Chef Ramsay says you can touch the box,” she murmured softly, trying to keep her voice from being picked up by Ignis’ microphone.

Ignis nodded wordlessly in acknowledgement before placing his hands on the box, feeling the wood under his hands.  It was smooth and flawless, no blemishes, splinters, or knots anywhere that he could feel.  Ignis was certain he could feel the show’s logo on top as well, embossed into the wood.  He was very careful not to move the box while touching, only feeling along the wood to get a sense for how large it was.  Clearly anything could be hidden under this box with its size, and Ignis nodded after a moment before withdrawing his hands.  He would have liked to touch longer, but he could hear the soft footsteps of the cameraman to his left and decided he should hold off.  The last thing he wanted was an elaborate montage set to soft music of him touching the box and ‘seeing’ it for the first time.

He’d been listening to the chefs briefly re-summarize the rules of the challenge as he touched the box.  It was for clarity and fairness that the rules were established so many times, and Ignis wanted to be sure that he hadn’t missed something.  It sounded much the same as when the producer had explained it; this was the explanation for the cameras and thus, for the audience at home.

“On three, you can lift your boxes.”  Ramsay paused for a moment.  “One...two...three!”

Ignis lifted his box and smiled gratefully when Monica stepped in to help him set it down on the floor so he could run his hands over what he found beneath.  He frowned as his hands brushed over a brown paper bag.  Clearly there was something in it, but what was the challenge to be about?

Ramsay noticed the brief flash of confusion on Ignis’ face and addressed the group as a whole.  “Open the bags and see what’s inside!”

With permission given, Ignis opened the top of the bag and reached in.  There was a lot more than he expected, and he let his hands wander over the items.  He felt two wrapped packages of meat; a gentle squeeze of the packages to test the consistency of them.  One was definitely ground beef, and the other felt like chicken.  Another package felt more like bacon, and Ignis nodded.  He pulled them all out and set them aside, pondering which protein he would choose to use.  Another reach in yielded some potatoes and carrots.  Perfect; he could do something with those for sure.

Next came a head of broccoli, nice and firm and much fresher than the ones he would find if he and Gladio accidentally left their shopping for Sunday afternoons.  Bananas came out next; he set those further away as he wasn’t expecting to use them.

There was also a package of rice, a can - though he wasn’t sure yet what was in it - and a package that had the distinct feel of chocolate.  The chocolate was set over by the bananas.  It wasn’t something he commonly used.

The last two things were cheese and apples.  It frustrated him that he couldn’t tell exactly which kind of either he had, and he set them aside.

“Monica,” Ignis said quietly as he felt over everything he had set before him.  “Please tell me what is in this can, and what variety of cheese and apples I have.”

“Of course.”  Her response was immediate.  “You have canned tomatoes, white cheddar cheese, and green apples.”  This was something she could confirm with him, as per the rules of the competition.  He wouldn’t be able to read the packages without her help, after all.

Ignis realized that these were things he would commonly keep in his pantry and refrigerator at home.  He smiled a little at the familiarity and mentally flicked through his repertoire of recipes.  What were some things that the others at home all liked to eat that he could make in an hour?

“All of these ingredients are ingredients that you would find in your own pantry at home,” Tosi said.  “We are asking you to make us an amazing, Masterchef-worthy dish based on the ingredients that you use on a near-daily basis.”

Ignis’ mind began to race.  What could he do with these simple yet powerful ingredients?  He would need to come up with something, and quickly.

After all, it would hardly do for him to be eliminated on the first dish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the interesting thing about Mythril Chef is that I am both limited and liberated by Ignis' lack of eyesight. I can't fall back on describing expressions as I would default to and I have to focus on tonal cues. However, this also means I can focus more on what Ignis only is doing - partly because this is his story, partly because he can't look around and focus on what other people are doing. Sure, he can smell it, but two things - 1. he's going to be more interested in what he's doing, and 2. I bet money there's so many smells going on in that kitchen at once that he would really only be able to pick one out if he was trying hard and/or if someone like horribly burnt something.
> 
> So anyway. That's why Mythril Chef takes me ages to write. It's a very challenging fic, but I love it. I will tell you all that the _entire thing is planned_ , but sometimes Ignis is a diva and isn't interested in being written, and sometimes I just get in my own head about whether or not I can actually get a chapter written the way I want it to happen and I can't produce.


	8. Mystery Box, pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Mystery Box challenge is underway! Look into your own pantries and see the ingredients you use most commonly, and you might have an idea of what the chefs will be using. What will Ignis do with these typical ingredients?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FUN FACT: This is the longest thing I've written with the least amount of dialogue. Enjoy cooking action!

The instant that the signal to start was called, Ignis began.  He was already forming the shape of the dish in his mind and he had a pretty good idea of what he was going to do.  Quickly he gathered up the ingredients that he wouldn’t be using and tucked them back into the brown paper bag before setting it aside.  He needed all of the clear space that he could get.

With the non-essential ingredients out of the way, Ignis began to lay out the things he actually would use.  Out came the broccoli, the bacon, the chicken, the carrots, and the potatoes.  They would be a good starting point.

He had a memory tucked away of a meal he’d once made that nearly all of his friends had enjoyed.  The only one who hadn’t raved about it was Noctis, and that was because vegetables were featured quite prominently in the side dish.  He smiled to himself at the mental image of Noctis recoiling in horror as broccoli slaw was set before him, though the others had clearly enjoyed it.

That memory was enough to make him decide to move forward with the dish.  He also set aside the chicken and began to rifle through the staple pantry box.  Ignis grabbed the flour and eggs before setting them aside.  A frown crossed his face when he realized that he needed spices, but couldn’t easily identify which ones he had in his hands.  Ignis knew he could always try shaking them to listen for the sound and consistency, or open them to smell, but that would take too long.  With this dish, timing was essential, and he swallowed his pride and decided to use the assets that he had available.  He quickly grabbed one of the jars and held it up.

“Monica,” he said quietly.  “Is this salt, pepper, or paprika?”

She examined the jar and made an affirmative noise.  “You have salt in your hand.”

A lucky guess, then.  He knew that there were so many spices in that box that it was a miracle that he'd picked one of the three that he needed.  Ignis nodded and set it with the eggs and flour.  “Can you point me in the direction of the paprika and pepper?”

Monica immediately pushed them to him.  “Yes, of course.”  She knew that Ignis was very self-sufficient and independent and preferred to do things himself, but she was pleased that he was willing to ask her for assistance.  It was what she was there for, after all.

Ignis reached under the cabinet and grabbed a mixing bowl.  He also took a whisk in hand in preparation for what he would need to mix.  Quickly he tore open the flour and poured it into the bowl.  He wanted to get the batter to the correct consistency and knew he’d have to add water for that.

Tosi watched Ignis reach around for the faucet and finally made her way over to his station, not wanting to just call across the kitchen and embarrass him.  “It’s forward and to your left,” she said quietly.

Ignis gave her a grateful smile.  “Thank you,” he murmured.  “I appreciate it.”  Ignis felt shame beginning to color his ears that he hadn’t yet learned where everything was, but he tried to push that down for now.  It would do him no good.  He would simply have to learn the kitchen as quickly as possible and do his best until he knew it as well as his own.

Reaching for the handle, he added water to the bowl, stirring with the whisk and gradually adding more water until it was just right - not too thin, not too thick.  Tosi smiled to herself and stepped away to check on Weskham's progress.  Ignis nodded and grabbed the spices, opening them and beginning to slowly add them.

He sprinkled with care, stopping every few stirs of the whisk to smell the batter and ensure that he was getting the proper scent that he wanted.  He tended to go heavier on the paprika to give it a bit of kick, but decided to pull back as he wasn’t cooking for his friends.  Prompto appreciated the spiciness of the flavor, but he wasn’t sure that the chefs would like it nearly so much and decided to err on the side of caution.  He kept his usage of pepper light and easy as well, not wanting to go overboard.

When the concoction finally smelled right, he set it aside for the time being.  Next was to prepare the cast iron skillet for proper frying.  Though he could always use one of the deep fryers that was in the equipment pantry, Ignis knew there was no better way to get a cook than to use a cast iron skillet and do it himself.  He scraped some shortening into the pan and began to heat it up.

Okay.  That could sit for a moment.  Once it was melted, he could begin.  Quickly he opened up the package of chicken and began to sort it out, grabbing the best pieces for frying: legs, wings, and the best cut of breast.  Ignis nodded and dipped them into the batter, letting them rest for the time being.

While the oil continued to heat up, Ignis grabbed another skillet and set it to go.  He cut open the package of bacon and set it aside for the moment.  His mind raced as he ran through the ingredients that he would need for the next part of the dish: broccoli.  Vinegar.  Onion.  Honey.  Mayonnaise.  He would start with that, as it would take some prep work.

A cutting board was practically tossed onto the countertop as Ignis quickly peeled and minced the onion.  His knife flew as he quickly chopped and then scooped them into a nearby bowl.  Perfect; he could let that be.  Next he grabbed the broccoli, his hand scrabbling across the counter for the leafy stalk.

As he quickly chopped the broccoli, Ignis’ mind was racing.  He pictured the steps as he’d done them so many times before he’d lost his sight, and he tried to remember what would need to be done next. He’d have to cook the bacon, making sure that was done to perfection.  The slaw would have to sit for a while, so he knew he’d made the correct choice to start with this.  Chaotic though his methods appeared, Ignis knew what he was doing.

Ignis flicked a few drops of water into the skillet and listened to it hiss before opening the package of bacon, though he also heard footsteps approaching and turned his attention partially to whoever it was.  The steps sounded flatter than the totter of Tosi’s heels and the back of his mind busied itself with trying to determine whether this was Ramsay or Sánchez.

“Right.  Ignis.”  Ah, Ramsay, then.  His diction and his voice were unmistakable.

“Yes, Chef.”  Ignis lifted his head slightly as he laid the bacon in the pan.  Though he did not need to meet someone’s gaze when talking to them, it was a force of habit from many years of sight.  As an added bonus, it often threw people when he was able to “look” up at them while he was continuing to work.

“Tell me about your dish.”

Ignis nodded shortly and reached for the potatoes.  “Yes, Chef.  Currently I’m preparing fried chicken, broccoli coleslaw, and jojo fried potatoes.”  As he spoke, he sliced the potatoes into the correct size and shape, feeling them to make sure they were absolutely perfect.  If the fries weren’t the same size, they wouldn’t cook properly and the cook would come out uneven.

Ramsay watched him, recognizing what Ignis was doing.  He’d seen many people throughout the years on the show forget to take such a thing into account.  “Fried chicken,” he repeated.  “You’re going to have to really knock that flavor out of the park.  Are you using the deep fryer?”

“No, Chef.”  Ignis turned his attention to the bacon, reaching into the pan and touching a piece of it to determine how far along it was.  No, the fat had hardly had a chance to render.  It was far from done, but the way that the edges were beginning to curl indicated that perhaps it was ready to flip over.  He decided to give it another breath before doing so.  “I’d prefer to control the fry of it myself, though I will be using it for the fries.”  Ignis’ heartrate was even and he felt relatively calm.  He understood why people were often intimidated by Ramsay’s presence, though, and he fought to maintain his focus on the dish despite still feeling the weight of that presence.

“Most people would choose to use the deep fryer for all of it,” Ramsay said.  “Are you sure you want to make it more complicated?”

Ignis paused for a moment, considering this as he flipped over the bacon.  It really was a fair question, and he did know that many people would choose to use the deep fryer for both parts of the dish.  But he knew his own thought process, and he knew what he wanted from this dish.  A deep fryer just would not give him the same cook that a cast iron would.

“I’ve never backed down from a challenge,” Ignis said with a fierce smile.  “Complicated though it may be, it is always how I’ve functioned best.”

“Good luck, Ignis.”  Ramsay’s voice was neutral, and Ignis nodded in return.

“Thank you, Chef.”

Ignis let his mind return solely to his task as the minutes slipped by.  Once the bacon was finished, he pulled it aside and let it drain.  While he waited, he removed the chicken from the batter and prepared it for the pan.  This would be the longest part of the dish, the waiting game.  He laid the chicken into the hot, melted shortening and made sure it was situated before setting a timer and moving on to the next aspect of the dish.

The thing that always used to make Ignis nervous about chicken was that if it was undercooked, it absolutely could not be eaten.  He remembered a time where, while out to eat early in he and Gladio’s relationship, Ignis had quite nearly slapped an undercooked drumstick out of Gladio’s hand.  When Gladio looked at him in utter bewilderment, Ignis had sheepishly explained that he had been able to see the red juices running out from under the deceptively crispy skin.  Raw chicken was  _ not _ something that Ignis played around with,  _ ever _ .

He’d dedicated some of the earliest days of his cooking career to ensuring that every piece of chicken was moist but not underdone.  It was a terribly difficult balance, particularly after losing his vision.  Ignis found it far harder to get an accurate cook than it had been before, most of his chicken coming out dry and overdone to overcompensate for his fear.

It had been a frustrating time for him, and Gladio had eaten more than his fair share of Ignis’ terrible chicken for quite a while.  Though the other man had said that that sort of thing didn’t  _ matter _ to him - honestly, food was food and he’d always loved Ignis’ cooking (and for gods’ sakes, he liked  _ cup noodles _ ; his culinary palate was a bit  _ lacking _ ) - Ignis couldn’t let it go.  

(It had culminated in a night where Ignis had snapped, telling Gladio that if he wasn’t willing to tell Ignis when he’d made mistakes, then he would never learn and never get better.

Gladio had sat back, cleared his throat, and after a moment, recognized what Ignis needed.  He was just so fucking sorry it had taken him this long to realize.  So Gladio told him: “The chicken’s too dry.  Cook it less next time.”

Ignis’s shoulders had relaxed, and he had taken it to heart.  And next time, the chicken hadn’t been as dry.

But after he knew what to look for, Gladio noticed it everywhere.  He noticed how Noctis was quite blunt with his critique of Ignis’ dishes - it had originally been to the point that Gladio had told him to lay off once.  But Gladio noticed that after every critique from Noct, Ignis did something different next time.  And each time, Ignis seemed a little happier with the product.)

Ignis felt that same concern from back then flare back up, but he knew he had to trust himself.  He had to trust that he had the knowledge and the skills to press through.

Keeping an ear on the sound of the chicken sizzling in the cast-iron, Ignis turned his attention to the broccoli slaw.  The broccoli was tossed into a bowl with the minced onions and Ignis shook the bowl in a gentle scooping motion to evenly mix the ingredients.  With them properly set, he placed the bowl down and reached for another one.  His hands scrabbled for the mayonnaise, finding it after only a moment of searching.

Monica stood by, staying mostly silent as Ignis worked.  She was there if he needed help, but she would not push him or require him to take her help.  As it was, Ignis seemed to be doing well on his own thus far.  Out of all the people to whom she’d acted as a mobility guide, Ignis was probably the most determined and stubbornly independent that she had worked with.  And that he’d come this far on his own...she was impressed.

Ignis had finished whisking the mayonnaise and vinegar together, nodding firmly when there was no more resistance and it mixed smoothly.  He added in honey, salt, and pepper and continued to whisk it together.  Inhaling deeply, Ignis leaned in and deemed the mixture acceptable.  Grabbing the bowl of broccoli and onion pieces, Ignis poured his mixture overtop the vegetables and began to shake the bowl in that same tossing motion from before, listening carefully to ensure that none of the pieces tried to escape over the top lip of the bowl.

“Monica, please tell me if this coating looks even.”  Ignis thought that it was, but he would scoop out any gloppy or undesirable pieces if he couldn’t fix the coating.

She leaned closer and nodded before making an affirmative noise.  “It looks good,” she said warmly.

“Thank you.”  Appreciated as the comments were, he couldn’t stop here.  Ignis reached for the now dry bacon and began to crumble it overtop of the broccoli slaw, tossing the bowl every few seconds to evenly distribute the bacon.  Once the last piece had been crumbled, he set it aside.  One aspect was done, and now he could turn his attention to the rest of the dish.

The chicken was still frying, and it would be some time before it was ready to flip over.  Now he needed to prepare the potatoes.

Making his way back to the staple box, Ignis reached for more spices.  “Could you please tell me what other spices I have in this box?”

Monica came up behind Ignis and examined the labels.  “In addition to what you’ve already used, there is garlic powder, oregano, onion powder, lemon pepper, rosemary, seasoning salt, celery salt, and thyme.”

Ignis nodded thoughtfully.  “I can make this work.  Please show me the garlic powder, onion powder, lemon pepper, seasoning salt, and celery salt.”  Monica helped him find each, and he moved to grab another bowl.

The scents curled around him as he popped open each of the spices and began to mix them in the bowl.  He sprinkled them and stirred them carefully until the aroma was exactly as he wanted it.  “That should do it,” he murmured more to himself as he cracked an egg into a separate bowl and whisked it.

There was one thing that he would need before he could properly prepare the potatoes, but he didn’t have it immediately.  “Monica?”  At her answering noise, he turned towards her voice.  “I require a deep fryer, but I’ll need to get it from the equipment storage room.  Would you guide me that way?”

“Of course.”  She gently touched her hand to Ignis’ and he hesitated, but decided it was best to take it for now.  With everyone running around the kitchen, rushing to fetch equipment and such, it was better that he not take any unnecessary risks.  Taking her arm, Ignis used his cane to ensure that he wouldn’t run into anyone (the cameramen had a bad habit of pacing around his workstation and he needed them out of the way; the length of the cane was the fastest way to send them scurrying, Monica had murmured to him before filming started) and together they made their way to the room.

“The deep fryers are to your left, the second shelf up from the bottom,” Monica said, releasing Ignis’ arm.  She watched as he made his way over, pausing as his cane met the shelf and adjusting his position to reach for the deep fryer.

“Hmm.  It’s sizable.”  Ignis wasn’t sure he’d be able to carry it and his cane both and his mind raced about how best to handle it.  He knew that he was perfectly within his rights to ask Monica to carry it, as a fully-abled person in the competition would have both arms available, and one of Ignis’ would be occupied with his cane.  It wasn’t as if he was being given an unfair advantage in that regard.

And yet Ignis knew he couldn’t do that.  He refused to let himself be seen as weak, not with all the cameras about, and he reassessed the situation.  “Monica, would you please take my cane?” he asked, trying not to frown in irritation as he heard footsteps enter.  It was either another competitor or a cameraman, and he didn’t want to cross paths with either at any given moment.  The fact that the footsteps stopped and there was no sound of someone fumbling for equipment indicated that it was a cameraman, and Ignis turned his attention to Monica once more.  “I will carry the deep fryer; if you could just take my arm and - ”

“Of course.”  Monica waited until Ignis had a firm grip on the deep fryer before she reached out and tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow.  “Let’s head back to your station.”

The footsteps followed behind as Ignis, slower but never weak, walked back to his station and he wondered if it was that Izunia fellow following him.  Ignis pushed the thought from his mind.  He couldn’t worry about it now.

Once he was situated at his station, he set down the deep fryer and filled it with oil before turning it on.  It would need a few moments to heat up before he could do anything with it, so he turned his attention to the chicken.  

“How long is left on the timer?”  Ignis briefly heard noises from other stations filter in as he listened for Monica’s response.

“About thirty seconds; not long,” she answered.

“Perfect.”  At that moment, Ignis heard Tosi’s voice call out.

“Thirty minutes remaining!”

Ignis hurriedly did the math in his head.  Would that be enough time?  It would have to be.  His timer went off and carefully he flipped the chicken over, turning down the heat in the skillet at the same time.  He’d have to let it sit for another twenty minutes.

But in that time, there was still so much to do.  He kept his head down and grabbed the flour, finding where he had left it unerringly.  Some flour was added to his spice mix and he began to reach for the potatoes.

Ignis dipped the potatoes in the beaten eggs before placing them into his flour and spice mix.  Once they were all in, he gave the bowl a quick toss to make sure they were evenly coated.  He smiled to himself, realizing that nearly every part of this dish needed to be perfectly coated.  Perhaps next time he could pick something that wasn’t so dependent on even coatings.  He chuckled.

There was little he could do until the chicken was ready, and the potatoes would become limp and soggy if he did them now.  Ignis frowned before taking a fork to taste a piece of the broccoli slaw.  If that wasn’t done to perfection, then he would have to work on that.

...No.  As it was, he was satisfied with the taste.  Ignis smiled.  That could be left alone.

Tasting the slaw made him realize that he did need to test everything else as he went.  Careless, as he was often much better about doing that throughout the process.  Though he did cut himself some slack when he remembered that it wasn't really possible to taste raw chicken.  For now, he decided it was best to make a few fried potatoes and test them to see if the cooking time needed modified at all.

Less than ten minutes later, Ignis had a few fried potatoes in possession and tasted them.  The texture was exactly as it should be - firm, crispy, but mealy on the inside.  He was quite satisfied with that and would begin them shortly.

The minutes seemed to pass as Ignis ensured everything was properly lined up and ready for the final stretch of the challenge.  Though it was early, he asked Monica to direct him to the dishes for plating, as there would be so much to do in those final steps that he didn’t want to waste time doing it later.  He felt as if all eyes were on him as he made his way out of the kitchen a second time, but he paid it no mind.  He had bigger things to focus on.

By the time he had the plates situated, it was time to begin frying to potatoes.  He laid them in the fryer basket, set a timer, and lowered them into the hot oil before moving to the skillet with the chicken.  He knew it was almost done, almost ready to remove and begin plating.

Ignis was barely cognizant of the call that there were only minutes remaining, and he carefully removed the chicken from the skillet to let it dry as best as he could before plating it.  Sweat beaded across his temples from hanging over the hot pan, working with delicacy to avoid breaking the crispy skin of the chicken.

His hands worked quickly but with precision as he plated the chicken.  He chose a leg that had a particularly crispy feel, as well as a piece of breast.  He took a meat thermometer, poking it into one of the extra pieces that he hadn’t ended up plating to be sure they were cooked the whole way through.  When asked, Monica confirmed that the chicken was done all the way through, and Ignis felt a breath of relief.  He returned to plating the dish; feeling out the diameter of the plate with his fingers, he carefully arranged a serving of broccoli slaw.

At that moment, the timer for the fries went off and Ignis paused in his work.  He dashed over to them and pulled out the basket, letting them dry for a moment before just as carefully plating a handful.

Dimly, Ignis could hear the final countdown from the three judges, and he steadied his hands.  These final moments were the most crucial, and he couldn’t afford to slip up now.  He nudged the chicken breast over half an inch and neatened the pile of fries to his satisfaction.

Using only his hands, he felt his way along the plate to ensure that everything was laid exactly as he could visualize it, pausing to wipe up some stray drops of oil with his rag.  Briefly Ignis debated about asking Monica to confirm the state of the plate, but he knew that he needed to do this for himself.  This needed to be  _ his _ presentation, and he had to touch up the final details alone.

“And  _ stop! _  Hands in the air!”  Ramsay’s voice broke the hubbub of the kitchen and Ignis raised his hands to his shoulders, once again feeling as if he was surrendering.

But no.  It was hardly surrender if he felt in control.  Ignis smiled.  He was proud of what he’d prepared, and he was confident in it.  And he couldn’t wait to hear what they had to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy. _Shit_. This took far longer than it had any right to. Thank you so much to everyone at Chill XV who's worked with me on this - so many of you have talked to me and gotten me through the tough bits! Atropa, this chapter is for you, because you're always so excited to see it update :)
> 
> I still love this story, and I will not leave this fandom with it unfinished if I can help it. Thank you all, as always, for your patience as I adjust to changes in real life.
> 
> Recipes used as guidance:  
> https://www.bettycrocker.com/recipes/skillet-fried-chicken/82d50faa-3af8-4e10-ba88-d1b5f23daab0  
> http://www.myrecipes.com/recipe/crunchy-broccoli-slaw  
> http://allrecipes.com/recipe/25238/jo-jo-potatoes/


	9. Judgment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The time to judge the dishes has finally come.

The judges clapped as everyone else raised their hands up, signifying that they were finished with their dishes.  Hearing the applause, the other home cooks began to applaud themselves and each other.  It was overall a positive atmosphere, and Ignis smiled as he listened to the other small exultations that most others wouldn’t hear.  He heard a tiny breath escape from Garnet, a satisfied grunt from Balthier, and Coctura’s soft little squeal of excitement.  He had to admit that it was quite a contagious feeling.  But they all fell quiet when Ramsay began to speak.

“Right.  Home cooks.  There were three of you in particular who stood out tonight.”  Not for the first time, Ignis wished he could see the other dishes around him.  He was reluctant to compare himself to other cooks, but he was intensely curious as to what they had made.  Briefly he wondered if he could have identified which dishes would be the standout dishes.

“Takka.  Dino.  Garnet.  Please bring your dishes to the front.”

Everyone clapped for the three mentioned, and Ignis joined as they passed.  But...something about one of those plates smelled  _ off _ as one of them walked by.  They moved so quickly that he wasn’t sure which one it belonged to, but there was something not right about one of those dishes.  He was more than a little curious as to what the chefs would say about the food presented to them.

“Right.  The three of you stood out tonight.”  There was a long pause.  “For all the wrong reasons.”

Though Ignis was not at the front himself, he felt as if someone had physically punched him.   _ Ouch _ .  What a terrible way to find out that your dishes were not up to snuff.  He schooled his grimace into a more neutral face.

“Frankly, the three of us were disappointed with each of your performances.”  Sánchez sounded as if he’d expected more.  “Now.  Please return to your stations and wait there.”

How mortifying.  Ignis could practically feel the shame rolling off of the three as they slunk back to their stations; he could hear Garnet’s quick footsteps as if she was trying to retreat quickly before the others could see her face.

Ignis couldn’t say he blamed her.  He averted his eyes out of habit and respect for her wishes.

A silence hung in the kitchen before Tosi spoke up once more, her voice brighter than the other two.  “There were, however, three home cooks who stood out for all the right reasons, and we’d like to examine their dishes.  First, this home cook displayed finesse and showcased their ingredients.  Most importantly, this dish is Masterchef-worthy.  Now, please, come forward…”

A brief, dramatic pause.  Despite himself, Ignis felt his heart in his throat, waiting to hear the names.

“Cindy.” 

Everyone clapped for the woman, and Ignis could hear the pleased surprise in her voice when she asked “ _ me? _ ”  He smiled, pleased for her success as he heard her step past him to make her way to the front of the stage.

She proudly presented biscuits and gravy with chicken-apple sausage, crispy home fries, and scrambled eggs.  Ignis could smell each element as she walked by, and it did smell  _ divine _ .

“It tastes  _ expensive _ for such simple staple ingredients,” Ramsay told her.  “You’ve done a fantastic job.”

Tosi agreed.  “Delicious” was what she called it, a smile evident in her voice.   Sánchez rounded out the positivity, describing the dish’s big flavor.  There was very little negative feedback, except that Ramsay would have added less cream to the sausage.

“Well, thank y’all kindly,” Cindy said, and her glee was practically palpable.  “Shucks, I just cook for Paw-Paw once’n a while!”  Ignis couldn’t help but smile at her exuberance.  She was quite modest, and he found it endearing.

Once Cindy had stepped away to wait for the others, Tosi called the next name.  “Next, we’d like to see a home cook who stayed true to their roots.  They’ve done their home proud, as well.  Please, join us at the front...Weskham.”

Ignis heard a pleased rumble as Weskham moved past him, and he knew the other man was proud of his work.  Ignis tried to catch a whiff of everything, but there were so many complex scents that it was near impossible to pick them all out at once.  He could, however, smell cinnamon almost immediately.

Weskham placed down a plate of blackened chicken breast with etoufee sauce, runny eggs, and cinnamon potatoes.  Ignis was fascinated by the cinnamon potatoes in particular; he could smell them strongly and he wondered how they tasted.  Would he have ever thought to do something like that?  He couldn’t say for sure.  But the judges certainly seemed to enjoy it.

“It’s beautifully cooked,” Sánchez praised after savoring his bite.  “This is perfectly blackened, too.”

Ramsay was particularly impressed with the richness of the sauce, praising that aspect of the dish in particular.  Though he found the eggs a touch too runny, the dish was overall quite strong, and Tosi praised it as well.

“The last home cook we’d like to examine more closely is one who kept it simple but delicious.”  Ramsay’s voice carried across the soundstage.  “Come down, please...Ignis.”

The applause around him took a moment to register, and Ignis felt the tips of his ears flush when his mind finally processed that  _ his _ name had been called.  His head turned towards Monica out of habit; his surprise must have been evident because he heard her fond chuckle.

“Yes, you.  Let’s go to the front,” she murmured, her smile obvious in her voice as she walked beside Ignis.  She did not offer her arm this time, knowing that Ignis preferred to walk under his own power, but she wanted to be beside him.  Ignis carefully took his plate in one hand and his cane in the other, and slowly made his way forward.  With the utmost delicacy, he placed his dish down before the judges.

“Ignis?  Please show us your dish.”  Tosi’s warm voice drew him back in and he straightened up.  The others were certainly formidable opponents, but Ignis was still confident in what he placed on the table before him.

“I have prepared skillet-fried chicken with broccoli slaw and jojo fried potatoes.”  It sounded so simple when he broke it down that way, but it was quite an important dish.  His tongue darted briefly over his lips as he heard Sánchez step forward.  Ignis was starting to learn the difference between his and Ramsay’s strides, and he knew it would be nothing but beneficial to know who approached. 

“The plating is perfect,” Sánchez said with a smile.  “You've got it arranged well and it looks fantastic.  I'm digging the different colors with the broccoli slaw, too.”  The scraping sound of a fork touching the plate was heard and Ignis heard the other man take a bite.  The sound of it, a little crunch but just enough give, made him think that Sánchez had tasted the slaw first. “Wow. It tastes as good as it looks, Ignis.  The honey in it adds a bit of sweetness that's a nice balance to the acidity of the vinegar.  The only thing I might have done differently?  Some apples might have been a nice touch.”  

_ Of course. _  That would have added a nice crunch and freshness to it.  Ignis nodded with a thankful smile.  “I appreciate your comments,” he said.  “Thank you.”

Tosi stepped forward to assess the jojo potatoes.  “These...Ignis, these are so  _ good, _ ” she said excitedly.  “The crunch on them with the soft inside is absolutely perfect.  You've nailed the cook on these, and I already want more.”  She chuckled and discarded her knife and fork.  “If this is what you do with ingredients you couldn't pick, I can't wait to see what you give us with ingredients you  _ did _ choose.”

He smiled and nodded once more.  “Thank you,” he said again.  “I’m pleased that they were to your satisfaction.”

“Satisfaction?”  Tosi smiled.  “I’d say we’re  _ more _ than satisfied.”

Ramsay was the last to approach, and he went right for the chicken.  “Ignis.  You chose not to use the deep fryer.  Tell me why?”  He picked up the knife and fork.

“Of course.”  Ignis felt the nerves in his stomach as Ramsay shifted the chicken around on the plate, examining every angle of it.  “I wanted to control the cook of the chicken.  This seemed to be the easiest way to do it.

“Hmm.”  Ramsay made a thoughtful noise.  “Ignis, are you confident that this is cooked the whole way through?”

There was the question that he’d been dreading.  Was he truly sure that his chicken was entirely cooked?    Ignis knew that he had to trust himself, but - not for the first time throughout the years - he wished that he had his sight to confirm.

But he was using it as a crutch, he knew.  He’d been without vision for two years, and it was not coming back.  It would do him no good to ponder the what-ifs, to long for his sight, and to think “I could be better if I was…”

He was what he was.  And what he was was  _ the blind chef, _ as Dino had called him.

But it had not stopped him.  He had not slowed.  In the hospital, he had demanded to know how soon he could return to the kitchen.  There had been many nights where he had made a mistake that left a dish inedible, or left him injured, but he did not stop.  And it had brought him here, to this point, wearing a white apron and presenting a dish to Gordon Ramsay.

The time to doubt himself was long gone.

The time to trust in himself and his skills was here.

Ignis drew himself up taller and nodded firmly.  “Yes, Chef.  I am sure that it’s cooked.”

There was a pause, and Ignis heard the sound of fork and knife scraping the plate.  To his delight, Ignis could hear the crunch of the skin on the chicken as Ramsay cut into it.  His tongue briefly darted out to wet his lips and he folded his arms behind his back as he waited for Ramsay’s final judgment.

“Ignis.”

  
“Yes, Chef?”  He swore he could hear his own heart, and for a moment he felt that everyone else could, too.

Ramsay paused for a moment before speaking again.  “It’s perfectly cooked, all the way through.”

Ignis released a slow breath he didn’t realize that he’d been holding.   _ Thank god. _  He’d managed to do it - the chicken was entirely cooked.  He heard the scrape of the fork against Ramsay’s teeth as he took a bite, and the clatter of the silverware being set aside.

Then Ignis heard a soft huff.  To him, it sounded...not displeased.

“It’s absolutely brilliant.”

Ignis’ heart soared and he instinctively straightened his posture.   _ Brilliant? _  His pulse ramped up and he couldn’t stop a small smile from crossing his lips.  “Thank you, Chef,” he whispered.  He would have been content with that alone, but Ramsay continued.

“The dish is so rustic, and the flavor is brilliant.  The combination of the fried chicken with the broccoli slaw and the potatoes is a fantastic choice together.  With what you’ve been given, this is a fantastic first dish in the Masterchef kitchen.”  Ramsay’s voice was animated as he described Ignis’ dish, sounding pleased with it.  “What would I change?  You could use some more color.  With the fried chicken and the fries, it all begins to look a bit the same.  But the chicken is evenly coated, evenly colored.  Overall, it’s near untouchable.  Well done.”

Ignis glanced down, his eye flickering down to where he knew his dish to be.  His smile was still spreading his face, despite the constructive feedback, and he didn’t think he’d ever felt more pleased.  “Thank you very... _ very _ much.”

He took up his cane and made his way to the other contestants, standing in a row at the front of the kitchen.  He heard Cindy whispering a bright “good job, Sugar!” to him, and he smiled and nodded thankfully in response.

“Now.  While all three dishes are fantastic, there is only one winner.”  Sánchez called them all to attention.

Ramsay agreed.  “The dish of the night belongs to…”

To Ignis’ surprise, he felt Cindy reach across the space between them and grab his hand.  He started in surprise, and she hastily apologized before dropping it.  “Didn’t mean to startle ya,” she whispered.  “‘M’just so excited!”

He gave her a quick, affirmative nod, reassuring her.  He didn’t care for being touched, but he wasn’t offended that she had tried.

“Congratulations…”

That long, damnable pause.  And the worst part was that Ignis knew it would be even  _ longer _ on TV.  He held himself perfectly still and waited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DON'T HATE ME.
> 
> <3


	10. And the Winner is...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The winner is finally announced, and the reality of the show sinks in.

“...Ignis.”

He barely managed to keep his mouth from dropping when his name was called.  Faintly he heard the applause around him, though it was barely audible over the thrumming of his pulse in his own ears.  His grip tightened minutely on his cane and he couldn’t stop the smile that crossed his face.

“We were so impressed with what you presented to us, Ignis.”  Sánchez smiled.  “Tonight, you are safe from elimination.”

“Thank you.”  Ignis kept his voice steady despite the brief flashes of gratitude and pride that he felt.  Gratitude that, despite the other stellar dishes, his had been  _ chosen  _ \- and pride that, despite the other stellar dishes,  _ his _ had been chosen.  He’d worked hard, and he was making himself stand out.  He was attempting to cast off the label of  _ the blind chef _ and show just what he could do.  And now, the others would know not to underestimate him, like so many before them had done.

“Please, Ignis.  Head up to the balcony.”  Tosi’s warm voice pulled him from his thoughts and he nodded.  He felt Monica’s hand lightly touch the back of his and he accepted her arm.  He had no idea where the balcony was without her help, after all, and he allowed her to lead them.

The tip of his cane brushed the bottom of the stairs and he let it serve as a waypoint.  He could feel, by moving it from side to side, that the stairs were incredibly narrow and were likely better decoration than a functional method of transportation.  But he was able to make his way up them, and he knew that in the future it would be easier to make his way there.

_ In the future. _  Listen to him, assuming he would be on the balcony more than once.

But if he was planning to win, surely he would have to be there at least once more, wouldn’t he?  He ignored the little thrill that went up his spine at the thought.  

He made his way to the railing, standing and tilting his head to the side.  To the camera, he would appear to be in profile, perhaps indifferent to the happenings below.  But he knew that he would be able to hear the other competitors better, and perhaps pick out more of what was going on.

“In fact...there was such a display of talent tonight that we’re not ready to let  _ any _ of the top three go,” Ramsay said.  “For the first time in Masterchef history...all three of you are safe from elimination!  Cindy, Weskham - join Ignis up on the balcony.”

Now that was surprising.  Ignis joined with the applause, genuinely happy for the other two chefs.  They clearly had a lot of talent, and he understood why the judges were reluctant to let them go.  He heard them make their way across the stage and up the stairs, and he turned to face them as they approached.

“Congratulations,” he murmured as they stood next to him along the railing.  “Your performances were astounding.”

“Thank you.”  Weskham’s low rumble reached him first.  “You say that as if you weren’t something to see, too.”

“Fer sure, Sugar.”  Cindy laughed softly.  “Ah looked up a few times, and you were  _ flyin’  _ around that kitchen!  You don’t let nothin’ slow you down, do ya?”

Ignis chuckled in return.  “I certainly endeavor not to.”

“In fact…”  Ramsay’s voice from below drew their attention once more.  “All of you, except for the bottom three, are safe from elimination.”

This was  _ very _ unorthodox.  Never before had nearly the entire kitchen been declared safe.  Ignis clapped, along with Weskham and Cindy, and he could hear the cheers and whoops of the people below.  They were ecstatic to be safe, but Ignis heard a distinct silence from three pockets in the kitchen and he pressed his lips together.  How embarrassing for the three - Takka, Dino, and Garnet were now painfully aware that they were the bottom of the pyramid, and it was likely now their moment to save themselves from elimination.

“Everyone except for Dino, Takka, and Garnet, please.  Join your fellow competitors on the balcony,” Tosi said.

There were a few minutes in which Ignis could hear the other competitors coming up the stairs and fanning out among the balcony.  He heard Fran settle somewhere behind him, the sound of her heels drawing his ears.  Balthier’s footsteps crossed behind him as well, standing near Fran and watching the proceedings.  Coctura stood near Ignis, and he could feel her lean over the railing to get a better view.  

The directions were dictated to the bottom three.  They would have only 45 minutes and they would be in charge of making cannolis.  This announcement had made Dino bark out a triumphant laugh.

“Sorry,” he said, “but I got this one in the bag.  I could make a cannoli with one hand tied behind my back.”

Ignis heard a tiny sigh of despair escape from Garnet at that proclamation, and he frowned slightly.  Clearly she was distressed and didn’t feel as if she’d be up to the task.  Takka, however, remained oddly silent as they ran to the pantry.

Ignis listened in relative silence as everyone watched the proceedings below.  Monica leaned over, describing what was happening to him with soft words to keep his microphone from picking up everything she described.  It sounded as if things were going relatively well; Dino was off to a strong start and was blustering his way through the kitchen with bravado.  Takka kept his head down, working steadily, and Garnet was more than a bit flustered as she rushed through the steps.

The other home cooks called encouragement down to the other three, but Ignis remained mostly silent.  He did call down just once - “Do your best!”  It was a general encouragement, as he did want everyone to put in their best efforts, but he didn’t want to appear as if he was attempting to form an alliance of any sort, which he feared encouraging anyone in particular would do.

Perhaps he was thinking too much about it, but with a cameraman and an editor out to get him, it was best to stay under the radar.  He remembered Prompto’s warning to avoid doing anything that could be used against him, and he decided to stay the course.

About three quarters of the way through, Ignis heard a curse from Dino’s station.  “Dammit,” he growled.  “Shoulda waited a bit to - ”

“Oh goodness.”  Coctura’s tiny whisper rose up before Monica could elaborate.  “He’s trying to remove the metal tube too soon.  Be careful, Dino!”

Ignis knew that the cannoli couldn’t hold its shape if it was still hot when the tube was removed.  It sounded, unfortunately, as if Dino were learning this the hard way.

It was a tense challenge, and without his vision to benefit him, Ignis had no idea who was going to come out on top.  Monica was describing how things were going, but she wasn’t able to fill in the pieces that he needed to know to make that determination, the little things that he would have been able to see - the color of the shells, the temperatures that they were cooking at, the look of the filling.  She was a mobility guide, after all, not a professional chef.

At the end of the forty-five minutes, they were called to stop.  Ignis tried to catch any of the scents that he could from the balcony, but nothing smelled terribly egregious.  Well, that meant that nobody had horrendously burned their cannolis, at least.  He listened carefully to hear what the judges had to say about his competitors’ dishes.

Garnet had made an admirable effort.  Her cannolis weren’t as firm as they could have been, and her filling was a bit sloppy, but they were still edible and that was...well, it was at least something, Ramsay informed her with a sigh.

Takka had done surprisingly well, but nobody was more surprised than Takka himself, as he’d never made a cannoli in his life.  “Guess I just know m’fried foods,” he said with a proud little smile.  Tosi seemed eager to see what else Takka could do if that was how he did when he was told to do something he had never tried before.

To perhaps nobody’s surprise, Dino had talked the talk but had fallen on his face in an attempt to do the walk.  His cannolis were falling apart, with filling oozing out of the sides.  The consistency was all wrong, and they were sinking in on themselves like a pile of jenga bricks.  “The way you talked, I expected more,” Ramsay said with a shake of his head.  Dino had protested that he’d made them before, and he couldn’t imagine what he’d done wrong this time.  Unfortunately, it just seemed that the pressure had gotten to him and he’d cracked.

The judges took a few minutes to debate which dish would be the one to be eliminated.  Ignis could hear their soft whispers, though he couldn’t pick out anything concrete among the quiet words.  He had his suspicions, but he did not know what they based the criteria on.  Was it on potential for growth, or was it on what was currently produced?

After a few moments of discussion, the judges called for attention.  “Two of you did just enough to stay in the competition for another day, at least.  Please...come down to the front.”

Footsteps crossed the stage and the three cooks stood before the judges.  Ignis heard the sound of Garnet clutching the fabric of her shirt tightly, possibly fisted behind her back.  He imagined her as a woman who did not wish others to know her weaknesses, and would thus try to hide it.  

“The first person we wish to send to the balcony…”  Sánchez addressed them at large.  “...is Takka.”

Everyone clapped for the older man, who was pleased with his efforts.  With a jaunty air, Takka lumbered his way up to the balcony, smiling as he was greeted with whispered congratulations from the other competitors.

“The second person we’re sending to the balcony, and the last person who will be safe from elimination tonight, has shown us they can improve.”  Tosi paused.  “Even if there’s still growing to be done, we think this person has the capacity to continue to do so.  Please, make your way to the balcony…”

A pause.  “Garnet.”

Ignis had to strain to hear the tiniest gasp from her.  Clearly she had been worried that she would not make it through the gauntlet.  Her small footsteps tottered up the stairs, and Balthier’s soft voice reached her.  “Good show, darling.”

Silence fell over the kitchen, and the air felt distinctly heavier.  “Oh, Dino.”  Ramsay sighed.  “You talked a big game, my friend, but you weren’t able to deliver.”

Dino groaned, and the way his voice projected upwards indicated that he’d tilted his head back to look up at the ceiling.  “Yeah,” he said ruefully.  “I got too cocky.  Shoulda been more careful, yanno?”

“The pressure got to you, I’m afraid,” Tosi said solemnly.

Dino came forward and shook their hands in parting, quietly thanking them for the opportunity.  He was a far cry from the loud, confident man of earlier, seeming almost sober and quiet now.  A weighty quiet hung over the kitchen as Dino’s footsteps turned and left, the heavy doors shutting behind him.

“That’s one down.”  Weskham’s low voice rumbled from somewhere off to the side.

Filming wrapped up not long after that.  Each of the top three were pulled aside and asked a few questions about their process and their dishes, and the others were asked a few things as well - mostly their impressions of the winning competitors and the ones in danger of elimination.

Of course, Izunia had been the one to interview Ignis.

“Tell us how you’re feeling, Ignis.  You’ve been declared the winner of the first Mystery Box challenge.”  The dulcet tones of his voice wrapped around Ignis and reminded him much of a snake coiling around its prey.  “You must be thrilled.”

_ He’s trying to feed me the answers he wants, _ Ignis thought to himself.  He took a moment to compose his own answer before speaking.

“I’m quite pleased with the results,” Ignis said, a little smile on his lips.  “Though it’s set me at a very high bar that I hope to continue to live up to.”

Ardyn made a thoughtful noise.  “Fascinating.  And what of the words that Dino spoke to you this morning?  The...charming nickname that he gifted you with?”  Every word was calculated, intended to throw Ignis and coax out the story he knew was simmering below the surface.

Ignis froze.  Their microphones had been on; even if none of the footage of behind the scenes could be used in the show, of  _ course _ Ardyn would have heard what Dino called him.   _ The Blind Chef. _

“Well,” he said, a wry little smile on his face.  “I’m not quite a  _ chef _ , so it’s hardly an accurate moniker.”

Now the noise was displeased.  That hadn’t been what he had hoped for.  “And yet, he said the others are asking more about you.  Does that concern you at all?”  A shuffle of fabric as his head tilted to the side.

“Not particularly.”  Ignis shook his head and adjusted his position in the stool he’d been made to sit on for the interview.  He continued to face Ardyn’s voice, ignoring the camera that he could practically feel buzzing nearby.  “It’s human nature to be curious.  But I am here to focus on my task, and they on theirs.  I imagine my appeal will fade soon enough.”

Ardyn hummed, and the sound told Ignis that he had won this round, too.  “Perhaps.  Well, Ignis.  Thank you for your time.  I imagine you’ll want to get plenty of rest for the next round.”

Ignis nodded and stood.  “And thank you for your time, Mr. Izunia.  I appreciate the work that you put into the show.”

He continued to try and be cordial.  Perhaps there was still a chance that his portrayal wasn’t made to be completely helpless and invalid, and being pleasant would help with that.

But for now...he had the next two days to enjoy.

***

By the time he returned to the hotel, it was rounding on dinnertime.  Though he had little energy after the draining day, he knew that he had to eat something - and gods knew that the hotel restaurant held little appeal for him.

An hour later, Ignis had tidied away a small meal of fish and a salad.  He was experimenting; trying a few new flavors that he might want to exercise the next time that he was in the kitchen.  After all, it wouldn’t do well to fall out of practice outside of the Masterchef kitchen, would it?  But he had to admit that the suite’s kitchenette seemed...lacking in comparison to the expansive kitchen.

Moving around the kitchen alone made him feel far emptier than he cared to admit.  While he was self-sufficient in a familiar kitchen, he had grown quite used to other people in his cooking area.  This kitchen was... _ empty. _  No Tribble looping around his ankles, begging for scraps.  No Noctis and Prompto, banging in and out at all hours and asking Ignis if there was enough for them to stay.  No Iris, offering to set the table despite knowing that Ignis had a very  _ particular _ way that he liked it set.  And no Gladio, engaging him in warm conversation and friendly encouragement.

A pang of longing hit him, and before he could stop himself, Ignis was grabbing his phone and dictating to it.  “Call Gladio.”

The phone rang as Ignis placed the dishes into the dishwasher.  For a long moment, Ignis wondered if perhaps Gladio wasn’t available, and was starting to feel a little foolish for having called, and - 

“ _ Iggy? _ ”  Gladio’s voice was warm and surprised.  “ _ Hey, babe, how’s it going? _ ”

Ignis found himself clutching the phone a little tighter as he made his way over to the sleeping area.  “Gladio,” he murmured.  “Things are well, love.”  The pet name came far easier than when he was at home, desperately trying to hide his smile at the kisses peppered across his face.  “We just finished filming, and I’m back at the hotel.”

“ _ You kick everyone’s asses? _ ”  Gladio chuckled, and Ignis felt a pang as he realized that he wouldn’t be able to tell the other man just how on-the-nose his guess was.  “ _ Nah, don’t worry, I know you can’t tell me.  I’m always gonna think that’s what you’re doing.  I guess it’s going okay though, unless you’re calling to tell me they’re sending you home. _ ”

“I can only tell you that isn’t the case,” Ignis said with a soft laugh.  He sat on the bed, just enjoying the sound of Gladio’s voice in his ear.  “I’ve just finished supper.  What are your plans for the evening?”

“ _ Just got back from my shift at the gym and got a shower. _ ”  Gladio gave a little groan like he was stretching.  “ _ With the summer comin’, you know everyone wants a beach body and wants a personal trainer to do it. _ ”

Ignis smiled.  “Indeed I do.”

“ _ Maybe gonna make some cup noodles and call it an early night. _ ”  Gladio laughed ruefully.  “ _ I’m old, Iggy.  It’s not even 9 and I’m thinkin’ about going to bed. _ ”

“I understand,” Ignis said.  “I’m on the bed and very nearly ready to fall asleep myself, and it’s barely past 6 here.  At least we'll have the next two days to ourselves, as Ramsay is currently working on Hell’s Kitchen at the same time.”

There was a pause, and Ignis could practically hear the slow smile spreading Gladio’s face.  “ _ You’re in bed, huh? _ ”

The tone to his voice sent a little shiver through Ignis, and he was suddenly no longer tired.  “I am,” he murmured, his voice dropping to match.  He wasn’t ashamed to admit that he had quite an  _ active _ sex life with Gladio, and he had distinctly been missing it these past few days.

Before he’d met Gladio in college, he never would have expected to miss sex after only a few days apart.  And yet here he was, his cock already beginning to thicken just at Gladio’s soft and possibly innocuous question.

“ _ Me too. _ ”  He’d heard Gladio’s footsteps and the shift of their mattress, and he surmised this to be the truth.  “ _ Just thinkin’ about you in that big old hotel bed, all by yourself. _ ”

Ignis chuckled a little dryly.  “It’s as large as ours, but about half as comfortable.  I haven’t yet worn my divot in it.”

Gladio laughed.  “ _ Focus, Iggy.  I’m tryin’ to seduce you.  You can bitch about how uncomfortable it is later.  Just lemme take care of you. _ ”

Just the words sent a little thrill through him.  Gladio was trying to seduce him, even from so far away, and it made him feel very  _ wanted _ .  “I apologize,” he murmured, hand already moving to undo his button-down shirt.  “Do continue, love.”

Gladio made a soft noise at the nickname.  “ _ Yeah, _ ” he breathed softly.  “ _ I’m not wearin’ too much.  Didn’t bother to get dressed after the shower an’ all. _ ”

Ignis’ good eye closed and he exhaled softly at the thought of a very naked Gladio lying in their bed, his cock beginning to thicken from nothing but the thought of what Ignis might do to him if he was there.  It made him wish that he were there right now, letting his mouth roam over warm skin and explore Gladio’s many, many tastes.

“ _ You gonna tell me what you’re wearing? _ ”  Gladio’s voice brought him back to reality and he chuckled.  “ _ This is a lot more fun when we both participate, y’know… _ ”

Ignis’ breath caught slightly.  He and Gladio had never been apart for long enough to ever engage in...these types of pursuits, but already it seemed as if they were falling into it with incredible ease.  “Yes,” he breathed softly, quickly standing and crossing the room to ensure that the “Do Not Disturb” sign had been hung out when he entered.  While Ignis considered himself friendly, he wanted his space after a long day of filming.

And especially if his boyfriend was trying to get him to participate in phone sex…

He crossed back to the bed and settled in, shedding his shirt as he lay back.  “I’ve just removed my button-down,” he said quietly, feeling a little awkward.  He relied so heavily on voice and  _ touch _ during intercourse now, and he had one of those removed now.  It made him feel blind all over again, but just as before, Gladio’s voice tethered him to the present.

“ _ Oooh.  Tryin’ to match me, huh? _ ”  Gladio’s tone had dipped into a low rumble.  “ _ Better hurry and catch up, Iggy… _ ”

He could remember the playful smirk that Gladio fixed him with as they stared at each other across the room, as Gladio had crawled along his body, trailing burning kisses along Ignis’ skin and covering him with his weight.  Remembering that and playing it again in his mind let him clearly imagine Gladio was right there.  It spurred him to tuck the phone to his shoulder so he could undo his pants and shove them down.  “Don’t you dare start without me,” Ignis murmured in that tone that made a thrill run down Gladio’s spine and his cock.  He had memories in the back of his mind of his hands being tied as Ignis had teased him mercilessly, and it made him throb.

“ _ Wouldn’t dream of it. _ ”  Ignis heard rustling cloth and he made a guess.

“Have you removed your towel, love?”  Ignis reached for his earbuds on the bedside table and situated them so that he could leave his hands free to remove his boxer briefs.

“ _ Yeah. _ _ You naked yet, babe? _ ”

“Someone’s impatient,” Ignis teased, fetching the lube he’d stashed in the drawer.  He hadn’t wanted to take it along, insisting that he would have no time for activites of this sort, but now he was thankful Gladio had insisted.  He would have to thank him later.  “Though I suspect if you were here, I would have been naked the moment I had the door shut behind me.”

Gladio growled softly.  “ _ Damn straight. _ ”  The sound of a bottle popping open was heard.  “ _ C’mon, Iggy.  I wanna hear you. _ ”

Ignis slicked up his hand before taking his own cock in hand, gasping softly and dropping his head back.  Though his own hand felt distinctly different from Gladio’s, it would do in a pinch.  “Only if you start as well,” he chuckled.

“ _ Don’t worry about that. _ ”  The slightly slick noises that Ignis could hear told him that Gladio was, in fact, already well underway with his pleasure.  “ _ Damn.  I wish I was there. _ _ I wanna just get my hands all over you. _ ”

“I wish you were here as well,” Ignis murmured, a bit more emotion than he intended bleeding into the words.  It dissolved into a pleasured noise as his fingers slipped up and over the ridge of his cock.  “Little feels as good as when you touch me, Gladio.”

Gladio let out a low groan like he was in pain, but Ignis could hear the pleasure underlying it and he knew that there was no discomfort - except, perhaps, for the persistent hardness of his cock and tightness of his balls.  The thought of Gladio, trapped on that edge of pleasure and desperate for him, made him throb in his hand and Ignis moaned as well.  “ _ You sure know how to flatter a guy, _ ” Gladio chuckled breathily.  “ _ Fuck.  Can’t stop thinking about the last time you fucked me. _ ”

Ignis’ cock pulsed as he remembered, too.  He’d felt the tightness of Gladio’s body, both around him and under his hands until he’d slid his hand to pin Gladio’s wrist to the bed.  The other man had shaken, trembling wildly under him at the slow, thick drag of Ignis’ cock inside of him.  And the tightness of his rim around Ignis had sent Ignis careening into the depths of pleasure.  “I remember,” Ignis murmured, his voice thickening in pleasure.  “You felt so  _ wonderful _ around me.  The way your voice cracked in pleasure as you begged for me…”  He shuddered and his fist tightened around his cock.

“ _ Shit, Iggy, shit - ! _ ”  Gladio’s voice was turning ragged and into that desperate tone that Ignis had just described, and it was clear he wouldn’t last long.  Ignis could imagine him feverishly fucking his fist, eyes closed tightly and body taut as he rushed towards the edge.  “ _ Want you here; wanna touch you and feel you come undone under me -  _ ”

Ignis shuddered, knowing he was close to the edge as well.  “I want that, too,” he grunted, words beginning to fail him.  One particularly good stroke made his toes curl in his stockings and his thighs shook.  “ _ Gladio - ! _ ”

Hearing Gladio’s pleased moan in reply, calling Ignis’ name, finally let Ignis tip into pleasure.  He shuddered and gasped through his release, feeling his cum drip down over his fist.  Distantly he heard Gladio’s breath hitching as he, too, found pleasure.

For a long moment, they lay there, breathing quietly together.  It was Ignis who pulled himself together enough to speak first.  “That was…” he murmured, and then chuckled when he couldn’t get any other words out.

“ _ Yeah, _ ” Gladio laughed.  “ _ It was. _ ”

There was a warm pause between them before Ignis spoke once more, surprised by the words that slipped out.  “I miss you.”

Gladio gave a soft huff.  “ _ I know.  Hell, Iggy, I know you’ve only been gone a few days, but I already miss you.  Feels  _ weird _ without you here. _ ”

“It feels equally unusual to be away from home,” Ignis replied.  “Despite the little amount of time I’ve been away from home...I  _ do  _ miss you.”

“ _ Longest we’ve ever been apart, _ ” Gladio pointed out.  “ _ Even when I was in the hospital, and then when you were later...we were still there every day. _ ”

Ignis nodded for a moment before remembering that Gladio couldn’t see him.  It was so rare that it was  _ Gladio _ unable to see  _ him. _  “We were,” he said softly.  “But I know that we will be fine.”

“ _ Yeah.  I mean...it’s not like I won’t be able to talk to you.  You’ll call when you can, and I can email you. _ ”

Ignis smiled.  “I’ll just be living a secret kitchen life until I see you again,” he teased lightly.

“ _ Yeah, yeah, rub it in, _ ” Gladio laughed lowly.  “ _ I’m dyin’ to know how things are goin’.  Don’t tease me, Iggy. _ ”

“I’ll only tease you in ways that I know you can handle,” Ignis said with a small smirk.  Gladio chuckled and another comfortable silence fell between them.  There was cum cooling on his abdomen, his fist was slightly sticky, and he felt a slight chill, but the moment felt warm and comfortable.

“ _ Hey, Iggy? _ ”

“Yes, Gladio?”

“ _ I love you. _ ”

Ignis smiled warmly.  There were many things he could say, so many feelings swelling in his chest, but it was so easily encompassed with four soft words.

“And I love you.”


	11. Email Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief interlude wherein Ignis' friends write to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just me working through stress and wanting to do a teeny little update. Sorry not much happens here.

_ From: Noctis L. Caelum _

_ Subject: How? _

 

_ Hey, Ignis.  So you’ve been gone for maybe four days now, and I just have to know. _

_ How do you do it?  Like, how do you keep up with everything dad and I need?  How do you keep track of all of the different things that need done, the people who need to see us, our meetings, the very specific catering that the Niflheim Corporation wants to eat when they’re here, and oh yeah - the status of every open project that we have, both internal and outsourced? _

_ I’m running myself ragged trying to keep up with what you do. _

_ But don’t worry about me.  Prom’s making sure I get enough sleep at night and that I’m eating.  I mean, we’ve basically ordered out like...every night, but it’ll be fine.  Probably. _

_ Saw Gladio the other day.  He’s kind of a sadsack without you, Ignis.  He puts on a big show and acts like he’s fine, but...he’s just like, eating cup noodles every night.  I mean, I know he does that normally, if you let him, but he seems so  _ sad _ about it, now.  He tried to cook some mac and cheese the other day and the pan caught fire (don’t ask me how he did it).  Prom and I were there to help put it out, but yeah.  It was pretty lame.  Don’t think I’ve ever seen him look so  _ down _.  We replaced the pot, by the way, in case you were wondering. _

_ But don’t get me wrong - we all want you to do well.  I know you had your first challenge the other day, and I know that you can only tell us that you’re not coming home.  I hope you showed them all, though.  You know that we believe in you and want to see you do well. _

_ Okay, my lunch break is over.  Gotta get back to work now.  Later, Ignis. _

__ \- Noct _ _

 

 

_ P.S. Dad says to say “hi”. _

 

_ *** _

_ From: Prompto Argentum _

_ Subject: How?? _

 

_ Okay, Igs.  Seriously. _

_ HOW DO YOU GET NOCTIS TO EAT?? _

_ I know it’s not, like,  _ officially _ in your job description, but how do you do it??  He just wants to eat like...burgers (literally only the meat and ketchup) and pizza (meat lovers) every time I see him.  It’s impossible to get him to eat anything healthy, and...gods.  I love him, but he’s a nuisance sometimes.  So if you have any tips, I’d appreciate ‘em. _

_ I’m trying to keep him busy.  I mean, work keeps him busy, but I try to keep him busy  _ outside _ of work, too.  Even if that just means playing video games and chilling out until it’s time to sleep.  Just keep him company, you know? _

_ Anyway.  Hope you’re doing okay!  We can’t wait to see how it all turns out.  And I hope that Ardyn guy is leaving you alone.  Just don’t do anything he can use against you and it’ll be fine!  All he wants is a story, and if you’re not interesting enough for him, maybe he’ll back off a bit?  You do you, and it’ll be fine! _

__ \- Prompto _ _

 

_ *** _

 

_ From: Iris Amicitia _

_ Subject: Hi Iggy! <3 _

 

_ Hey Iggy!  I hope things are going good for you!  I know you haven’t been gone toooooo long, but things are going smoothly here! _

_ I’ve been over to take care of your plants and Tribble, but Gladdy has everything under control!  The plants were still blooming really nicely when I was over there last night and Tribble had lots of fresh wet food and water. _

_ I think Tribble misses you, though.  She kind of walks around and looks at all of us and cries a little, like she’s looking for you and knows you’re not here.  But then she sits on your favorite spot on the couch and just purrs all happy.  I guess it still smells like you!  (Don’t worry, I’ll make sure Gladdy vacuums before you come home.  Or at least I’ll make sure there’s not cat hair on your butt before you go back to work.) _

_ I’ll try to make sure Gladdy and Noct eat something healthy, too.  I’m sure you’ve already heard about Gladdy’s...kitchen fiasco.  Ugh.  It wouldn’t have happened if he’d just  _ let me do it _.  But he was soooooo stubborn and determined to prove that he was fiiiiiiine and - ugh.  Macho.  Ridiculous.  I’m sorry, Iggy, it won’t happen again. _

_ And don’t worry.  I’ll take care of Gladdy, too.  I know he misses you, so I’ll keep an eye on him.  He’ll never say it, but he’s not used to being alone.  He’s always had dad and me, so I know starting college was hard, with just him and Tribble, and he was so excited to meet you.  He didn’t stop talking about you even after that first date you two had!  It was so cute.  So I know he’s missing you, but I know he’s rooting for you just like I am! _

_ You’re like...another big brother to me, Iggy.  I want you to do your best!  Can't wait to hear all about your kitchen adventures! _

_ Lots of love! _

_ Iris <3 _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope it's not coming across like Gladio is _pathetic_ without Ignis. He misses him, sure, but he's doing fine. I tried to convey that but it might not have come across and I apologize.


	12. Recreation Challenge, pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chefs face their first recreation challenge, and Ramsay notices something about Ignis and another competitor.

When the next day of filming began, everyone was clearly in good spirits from the short break.  It seemed that this would be how things typically went moving forward - one long day of filming, and then a day or two off for Ramsay to work on his other shows.  Sometimes the break would be longer, and sometimes they would have to jump right into filming the next day.  Though they were all tired, they all secretly felt worse for Ramsay with his intense schedule.

“Good morning, home cooks!” Tosi called from the front as they all entered.  They all replied in greeting as they entered.

“Please, come down to the front,” Sánchez said.  They all took a few moments to make their way down, Ignis relying on both his cane and Monica’s guidance to make his way there.  He felt the others giving him space, though they were more comfortable settling in around him once he had found a spot to stand.  He heard Aranea’s soft puff from behind him - interesting; he hadn’t realized she was that short.  Her presence had always been larger than life and this was the first chance he had to stand near her.  Fran, who he could hear breathing slightly through her mouth, was likely far taller and that was interesting.

“You have quite the challenge ahead of you this morning,” Ramsay said, interrupting his train of thought.  “Today...you’re going to taste one of my dishes and you’re going to have to recreate it.”

Ignis straightened slightly.  The recreation challenges had always been interesting beasts on Masterchef, and now he was facing one down.  He wondered what the dish would be, and how well he could recreate it without sight.

Ignis heard the slight metal thunk of the cloche being placed on the table before them.  “Today’s dish is a traditional southern dish.  Though it was once a breakfast dish, most people now eat it for lunch or dinner.”  A hollow, metallic noise as the lid was lifted, and Ignis could immediately smell…

“Shrimp and grits!”  Coctura’s voice pitched in excitement.  “They look so good!”

Ignis leaned forward marginally, inhaling deeply to smell it.  The first thing he got was paprika, but he didn’t have much of a chance to process it before Ramsay continued.

“You’ll have an opportunity to taste the dish, and then you will have 45 minutes to recreate it yourself.”

Ignis wouldn’t admit it aloud, but he felt nerves in his stomach.  Recreation challenges were difficult because he couldn’t  _ see _ the layout of the dish; he would have to rely entirely on what he could smell and taste.  He supposed he could always ask to feel the elements of the dish after everyone had had a chance to taste it, but Ignis knew he would sooner drop his trousers for the cameras than make himself look that foolish and weak.

No, he would have to do this with only his mouth.

The chefs provided them all with spoons to taste the dish.  Ignis waited, letting a few others go first - though he wanted to taste the dish before everyone had had a chance to take it apart completely, he didn’t want to be the first one to push forward.  He would make do.

When he was finally able to take a bite, the flavors rolled around his mouth.  The shrimp was done to perfection - not overdone or rubbery, and deliciously warm.  Ignis breathed through his nose, trying to bring the scents in as he tasted as well, to allow them to work together in his senses.  The garlic and onion were apparent, and there was a light bite that he could taste as well - chili powder?  Red pepper flakes?  ...both?  And there was something else, something that he could just barely get a taste of...ginger?  Fascinating.

The grits themselves took the primary flavor from the shrimp, but Ignis could taste a bit of sugar and salt.  They were almost heavenly with a touch of butter and...cream, hmm?  There was also some garlic - freshly minced, if he was tasting the texture correctly.

With a thoughtful noise, Ignis set his spoon in the dirty bin.  He was fairly certain that he could recreate this.  The question was if it would measure up to what everyone else would create, particularly in the visual aspect.

But...he had won the first challenge.  It didn’t mean that he would win this one, but it filled him with a boost of confidence.  He would do his best, and it would carry him through.

The contestants were given five minutes to go through the pantry, which Ignis utilized as best as possible.  Monica helped him pick out the ingredients he needed, though Ignis was able to navigate himself for the most part.  When there was need of an ingredient whose location he didn’t know, he would have to ask her and she would direct him.

A few minutes later, Ignis emerged from the pantry with grits, heavy cream, butter, salt, sugar, garlic, shrimp, and a veritable plethora of seasonings that were practically spilling out of his basket.  But he knew he’d need each one of them.  His face was set in determination as he made his way to his station, Monica keeping pace with him.

“The grits need to be started first,” Ignis said, more to himself, as soon as his basket hit the floor beside him.  “They’ll take the longest, and the shrimp will go cold if I start there.”  He knelt down, pulling out a saucepan in preparation.  “The grits will have to simmer, as well.”

“Let me know if you need any support,” Monica said warmly.  “Otherwise, I’m staying out of your way.  You’re a force to be reckoned with.”

Ignis smiled in return.  Monica was a huge asset to him in the kitchen, and she was slowly becoming an ally as well.  They would likely not be friendly and familiar before the show’s end - it was, after all, the point of assigning him a guide with whom he was not familiar, rather than allowing someone like Gladio or Iris to assist him - but he appreciated her support in the unfamiliarity of the Masterchef kitchen.  And it was difficult not to be at least a little friendly with each other, as she was by his side many hours throughout the filming day.  They did not spend off hours together - it was one of the rules that had been set before the show’s start, and Monica and Ignis each had their own business to attend to after filming - but they made a good team in front of the cameras.

“Thank you,” he said kindly, setting the pan on the stove.  He knew that it would be better to build the liquid base before adding in the grits, and he began to fill a liquid measuring cup with water.  “Two cups for one cup of grits...that should be sufficient.”  He turned off the water.  “Monica, how close am I to two cups of water?”

Monica knelt to examine the meniscus of the water.  “Nearly right on the nose.  You’re a little over.”

Ignis nodded and poured out just a bit of water.  “Better?”

“Yes.  That’s better.”

He poured the water into the saucepan and turned on the heat.  Medium would be enough to bring it to a gradual boil and give him time to prepare everything else.  While he waited, he would have enough time to prepare the shrimp seasoning.

He gathered a bowl and the spices from his basket.  The garlic powder, onion powder, and black pepper were easy enough, but Ignis was struggling to piece together the ratios of everything else in the mixture.  He remembered the brief kiss of red pepper flakes, but just how much was there?  He sprinkled in a light amount and held off on anything more until he could add in the other things.  The ginger was a light touch, not so much as to overpower.  He leaned over and smelled the mix, but a few things were still missing.

Paprika was next, and that brought the scent closer to what he wanted.  But it wasn’t quite right.  What else was missing?

He ran his fingers over the labels, though he could not tell them apart, popping each open and inhaling thoughtfully.  He went through thyme, cayenne pepper, celery salt, tarragon, and oregano, but none of them smelled quite right.  Finally, he opened the last one - chili powder - and nodded.  Yes, this had to be it.  Quickly Igis confirmed with Monica that he was, in fact, holding chili powder.  At her confirmation, he added it to the mixture, swirling the bowl to mix them together.  That was much better.

He tried to ignore the lingering thought in the back of his mind that  _something_ was still missing.

The water was slowly boiling now, and Ignis knew it was time to add in the next things.  He measured out the heavy cream before pouring it into the saucepan and stirring.  The butter was next - ¼ of a stick would be enough for his purposes.  He didn’t want the butter flavor to be overwhelming, after all.  A pinch of salt and a bit of sugar followed next, and he let that work a bit while he quickly minced the garlic cloves.  Those were tossed in, and Ignis leaned closer to listen.  It wasn’t boiling yet, so he would have to wait a little longer.  This left him enough time to begin peeling the shrimp.

Peeling shrimp had been a tedious task  _ before _ he was blind.  Ignis bit back a sigh as he began to peel.  “Best get to it,” he murmured to himself, smirking slightly when Monica chuckled.  “Who knew that a shrimp and grits challenge would involve peeling shrimp, hm?”  It was dry and playful, and Ignis took only a moment for it before he reoriented himself to his task.

He’d gotten through the shrimp with relative ease and nodded to himself as he heard the boiling water.  He crossed the station to wash his hands before lowering the heat.  It wouldn’t do for the girts to burn by having the heat too high.  Once the heat was appropriately lowered, enough to keep it at a slow, rolling simmer, Ignis carefully stirred in the grits.  He didn’t want them to clump up and stirred as gently as possible to keep them moving.

_ They’ll have to be stirred every five minutes.  Without being able to see the clock, I’ll need to set a timer to keep coming back to it. _  His fingers worked quickly to push the buttons to set the timer for the first five minute interval.  He’d attend to it then, and not a moment sooner.

He tossed the shrimp into the bowl of seasoning, shaking it around to coat them all evenly.  He set the bowl aside and cut off a chunk of butter before tossing it into a skillet and turning on the heat.  That would need time to warm up…

Distantly he could smell a few things from other stations, many similar scents to his own.  It smelled as if he was on the right track for sure, and he nodded to himself, a little smile crossing his face.

He could distantly hear Takka mumbling in irritation about “ _ slippery shrimp _ ” as he fumbled to peel the shellfish.  It sounded as if other people were having trouble with the shrimp, though he could distantly hear someone peeling the shrimp with speed and grace.  Well, whoever that was was clearly doing well.

The first timer went off and Ignis stirred the grits gently.  They were coming along nicely, and he asked Monica to confirm that the timer was set properly before turning his attention back to the warming skillet.  It would be ready for the shrimp soon enough.

While he continued to work, Ignis heard others around him.  Garnet was currently being spoken to by the cameraman focusing on her, and he was pleased to hear her voice confident and strong as she answered the questions with grace and poise.  It was so far removed from her behavior during the last challenge that she sounded like a different person, and he knew that this was more of her true self.  But he didn’t spare more than a few moments of thought for her, as he needed to focus on what he was doing.

When they called the halfway point, Ignis held his hand over the pan to check the warmth.  Yes, it was ready to go.  He wafted the vapors towards himself, pleased that the butter didn’t smell burnt.  Okay, then he hadn’t waited too long.  He laid the shrimp in the pan delicately so the butter didn’t splash up, and so he would know where every single shrimp was.  Distantly he heard a small sound of shrimp bouncing into the pan and Balthier’s frustrated curse.  Clearly the other man had simply tossed his in without care and was paying for it.

Footsteps approached him, and Ignis’ blind eye flickered up briefly before flitting back down to his pan, all out of habit.  “Chef Ramsay,” he greeted warmly.

“Ignis,” Ramsay greeted in return.  If he was surprised that Ignis knew it was him, he didn’t let on.  “How are the shrimp and grits coming along, then?”

“Well, I should think,” Ignis returned.  Though he was loath to admit it, he’d tasted the shrimp seasoning before adding the shrimp, and...something was missing.  But he couldn’t identify what, and he secretly hoped that he was being paranoid about it.  “I think there might be...something missing, but I can’t be certain what.”

“Hmm.”  Ramsay leaned over and inhaled, taking in the scent of Ignis’ shrimp.  “I see what you mean.”  But he didn’t offer any advice.  “I’m looking forward to tasting it, Ignis.”

“Thank you, Chef.”  Ignis nodded and returned his attention to his dish.

Ramsay hadn’t gone more than a few steps to Balthier’s station before he turned to Sánchez and Tosi.  “Say.  Have you looked at these two?”

Ignis’ ears perked.  Was Ramsay talking about he and Balthier?  He briefly accessed his mental picture of the other man, aided by Monica’s descriptions earlier during pre-filming.

Ramsay chuckled.  “Why’d we let the same guy in twice?”

Ignis smiled to himself.  So Ramsay  _ was _ talking about Ignis and Balthier.  Ignis knew that they looked quite similar in some respects, and that apparently more than a few people had pointed it out throughout the short time they’d been together.  Nobody had ever said it to Ignis’ face, but he’d gathered the general consensus and he was more than amused by the idea.

Tosi laughed as well.  “What are the odds of us having two six-foot, ash-blonde, green-eyed competitors?”

The tiniest laugh caught Ignis’ ear and he arched a curious brow.  Fran, really?  He hadn’t thought such a thing would amuse her.  He tucked that away, quietly amused by  _ that _ , and returned to his cooking.

“There’s only room for one leading man in this kitchen, Ignis,” Balthier called across the kitchen to him, and a few other competitors laughed - though not unkindly. 

Ignis shook his head and did not reply verbally as he stirred the grits, though he did chuckle and smile so that Balthier would know he bore him no ill will for the jibe.  Perhaps if he’d known the other man as well as he did Gladio, Noctis, or Prompto, he would have willingly traded barbs - not to mention the camera that was constantly fixed on him.  No, camaraderie and teasing would have to wait until the cameras were off.  He put it out of his mind as he attended to his shrimp.

There were only ten minutes remaining when Ignis dipped a spoon into his grits and tasted them.  Yes, that would do.  They were a nice consistency, and he quickly removed them from the heat.  It was too early to plate, and he needed them to stay warm for a while longer without continuing to cook to the point of drying out.  His shrimp was almost finished as well, which left Ignis with plenty of time to make sure that his plating - the aspect about which he was most worried - was perfect.

By the time the final five minutes were called, Ignis felt confident.  Yes.  He could do this.  He could picture Ramsay’s dish in his mind, and he could recreate it.  It was time to begin plating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope this is less of a dickish place to cut this chapter, ahahaha. I PROMISE you will not be made to wait for long - the plating, the judging, and the winner will all be called in the next chapter!


	13. Recreation Challenge, pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The judging of the shrimp and grits, and the elimination challenge. Who will be sent home? Plus, Ignis ruminates on his relationship with Gladio...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NaNoWriMo has forced me to work on this! I have no idea if I'll actually be able to finish this fic during NaNo, but goddamn if I'm not going to try. To make up for how long I always make y'all wait, enjoy a whole lot packed into a chapter. <3 Thanks to Becks and Atropa, as always, for encouraging me!

Perhaps he should have left himself a bit more time, especially with his uncertainty of how the original dish looked.  Ignis’ brows furrowed as he felt his way along the plate.  He had no idea how it looked originally, and it was all he could do to piece it together based on how it tasted and how  _ he _ would do it.  But was how he would do it good enough for how Chef Ramsay would do it?

As he tasted one of the spare shrimp to test the flavor, Ignis privately mused that perhaps he asked himself too many questions.

He knew that he would spoon the grits into the plate - not so many as to look like an obscenely large portion, but not so little that someone would be left asking “where’s the rest?”.  He chose a serving spoon and a bowl that would fit the bill and carefully spooned some of the grits in.

“Does this look level?” he murmured to Monica, glancing in the direction he knew her to be standing in.  Heaven forbid that he had a huge unsightly glop in his bowl.

She leaned closer to confirm.  “Yes.  It does.”

Ignis nodded thankfully and carefully prepared to set the shrimp on top.  He wanted it to look artistic but not unreasonably so.  He had seen far too many episodes where food had been made and then had fallen flat during presentation.  A wince crossed his face as he remembered one particular instance where someone had prepared pancakes and had haphazardly drizzled the Masterchef “m” on the stack.  He wanted his food to be visually interesting, but not to  _ that _ degree.

He took five of the shrimp, thankful that they were large enough that he could stick them in a visually interesting way.  He placed the larger ends down in the grits, using the stickiness of the grits to help keep them in place.  He let them sit like a cornucopia, the tails sticking up and leaning against each other.  For a moment, Ignis worried that it would be too artsy and ridiculous, but he decided to press forward with it.  It was how  _ he  _ would do it and he had no way of knowing what Ramsay had done.  This was all he could do without that knowledge. 

As the chefs counted down the final seconds, Ignis hurriedly wiped down his bowl.  There was no time left to doubt himself; it was time to go forward.  He worked delicately in the final seconds, steadying the shrimp and preparing his dish for the final presentation.  The thought still nagged in the back of his mind that he had forgotten something, but Ignis knew it was too late to do anything about it at this point.  He had to move forward and if it was unsalvageable, to deal with the consequences.

But after he’d tasted each of the components, he really didn’t think it was unsalvageable.  When the final countdown hit zero, Ignis raised his hands up and exhaled shakily.  There.  It was done, and now it was out of his hands.

The chefs had walked around, tasting every component of every home cook’s dish as they had worked, and they had their top three in mind already.  Ignis licked his lips slightly, tasting how dry they were, as he listened with nervous energy for who they would call.

“The first home cook whose dish we would like to closer examine is…”  Tosi paused for effect - and to allow the editors to make that pause even unbearably longer at home - “Coctura!”

The young woman let out a little noise of excitement as she carefully lifted her bowl and hurried forward.  Her footsteps passed his station and Ignis couldn’t help but smile.  Her excitement was infectious and she was clearly so proud of herself that it was impossible not to be happy for her.

The chefs had quite a few kind things to say about Coctura’s shrimp and grits - the flavor was on point, the texture was exactly the silky smoothness that it should be for the grits, and it was a perfect copy of Ramsay’s dish.  Ramsay in particular was pleased with it, pointing out its assets from every angle.  Tosi loved the flavor of the shrimp, declaring that the South was clearly present in the kitchen that evening.

Sánchez called for the cook of the second dish to come forward.  “The second dish of the day…”  He paused and scanned the crowd, smiling.  “Fran!”

A light scent of pine hung in the air as Fran passed him, her heels clacking gracefully across the floor.  Listening to her breaths, Ignis put her height - goodness, she was just over 6 feet.  A momentary flash of embarrassment passed as he realized that she was  _ taller _ than him.  And that was likely the case even without her heels.  He was so distracted by that he almost missed the smells of her dish.

Praise was quite high for her dish as well.  Though the grits were a little stickier than Coctura’s, it was clear that the flavor was still quite well received.  Her shrimp had a very similar, delicious kick to Coctura’s.  Overall, it was a very good dish, Sánchez in particular enjoying the way the elements had all come together.

“The third dish that we’d like to see is…”  Ramsa paused as well, and Ignis bit his lip.  There was only one spot left in the top three, and perhaps he was foolish to hope for it.  But he was prepared no matter what the outcome would be.

“Garnet!”

Though Ignis was disappointed to not have been chosen, he was proud of the young woman and clapped as loudly for her as the others.  After how her first performance had gone, it was lovely to hear her heartened, quick footsteps, as if she was afraid that if she took too long they would rescind her spot and she would be banished back to her station.

“You’ve definitely made strides towards improvement,” Ramsay said after tasting her grits.  The butter flavor to the grits was Tosi’s favorite aspect, and they were all impressed with the growth she had made since the first round.

Was Ignis disappointed?  A little, perhaps.  But he knew that he could not be a winner every time, and he was happy for the three women.  They had dishes that they should be proud of, certainly.

“The three of you are safe.  Please make your way to the balcony.”  Tosi waved them all off of the stage and towards the side, and Ignis smiled as he heard Coctura still giggling to herself.

“Now...there were three of you who absolutely did not meet our expectations tonight.”  Sánchez shook his head slightly.  “These three are in danger of being eliminated today.”

In that moment, Ignis suddenly realized the missing component.

_ Celery salt. _  He hadn’t added celery salt to his shrimp seasoning.  That absolutely would have been what tied the flavors together, and he bit the inside of his cheek.

In a terrible, gut-wrenching flash, it dawned on Ignis that he had absolutely not considered the possibility that he would be in the bottom three.  His stomach clenched.  Was this possible?  Could he actually be in the bottom three, in danger of elimination?  He hadn’t thought that he’d done so badly, but with the celery salt missing…

“Balthier.  You’re first.”  Sánchez addressed the man directly next to Ignis, and the other man reluctantly brought his dish forward for the judges to examine. 

The shrimp were overcooked to the point that they were squidgy and tasteless.  They’d also been tragically underseasoned.  While his grits were fine, the shrimp unfortunately dragged the rest of the dish down.

“And here I thought I’d cooked them just long enough,” Balthier said ruefully.  “I never was quite good at judging when a shrimp was done.”

Ignis knew the feeling.  Certain meats could be eaten a little rarer, but shrimp was not one.  Undercooked shellfish was a great way to get someone very sick. 

“The second of our bottom three tonight…Aranea.”

The woman sucked her teeth quietly.  She knew damn well that she had messed up - her shrimp were too spicy and her grits were unforgivably sticky.  The combination made for a gluey, overspiced mess that was barely edible, and Aranea was beyond frustrated with herself. 

“My palate is clearly dead to spice,” she said dryly.  “I kept thinking it just needed a little bit more to be perfect.”

The final name called drew Ignis’ ear, as he’d recognized the frustrated voice earlier.  Takka clearly had not been able to recover from his fiasco with peeling the shrimp earlier and was called forward. 

The chefs were firm with Takka about what he had done wrong.  His shrimp were  _ undercooked,  _ meaning that nobody could actually taste them to see how the flavor had come out.  In addition, the texture of the grits was inexcusable, somehow coming out chunky and gritty and completely inedible.  He hadn’t used butter to cook them, meaning there was no flavor.

“Chunks of shrimp shell in the grits, and the taste and texture of them - man, what happened, Takka?”  Ramsay’s voice was beyond frustrated.  “Your grits give me the shits, man!”

Ignis heard Weskham click his tongue in response.  “He struggled the whole time,” the older man murmured disapprovingly.

Part of Ignis was grateful that he couldn’t see his competitors work because he would compare himself to them the entire round.  But then there was part of him that wished he could identify what Takka had done wrong throughout the challenge.  He was always looking to refine his own techniques, and unfortunately sometimes seeing what  _ not _ to do was the best way to do that.

But something about that felt...different when he  _ knew _ the person cooking.  

“The rest of you did enough to get by this round.”  Ramsay was clearly still a little frustrated with the performance of the bottom three even as he addressed the rest of the kitchen.  “Those of you not in the bottom three, join the top three on the balcony.”

Ignis and Monica made their way to the spiral staircase and up to the safety of the balcony once more, and Ignis was  _ grateful _ .  He felt almost guilty for being such, but he reminded himself that it was a competition.  He drew himself up a little taller and curled a hand around the railing.

The chefs outlined what the elimination challenge would be.  The bottom three would have a second chance at making their grits, and the expectation was that they would correct their mistakes from the last round.  Whoever was unable to do so would be eliminated.

The air in the kitchen was tense as the home cooks set up to move forward with the second round of the challenge.  The cooks ran back into the pantry with urgency, trying to make sure they collected everything that they needed before going back into the challenge with new vigor.  Ignis could faintly hear them muttering to themselves as they rummaged through, and a few murmurs about what they would change.  He heard Aranea making noises about her spice choices for round two, likely knowing that she would have to go lighter this time.  Privately, Ignis mused that she would have to address her issues with the grits rather than the shrimp, but ideally she would be able to do both.  He knew she was a strong competitor, and he was hoping she would be able to pull through.

Their 45 minutes seemed to pass quickly.  Ignis was rather surprised that the chefs who weren’t participating were relatively quiet, only occasionally making a comment to each other.  It was a nice moment where everyone was quietly observing: watching, listening, and learning from the cooks redoing their challenge.

Monica was at his side once more, relating things as she saw them happening.  After some brief feedback from Ignis last time, she tried to focus more on the technique of what the chefs were doing, knowing what he was concerned with and what he wasn’t.  It sounded as if Balthier had corrected his technique for the shrimp, not throwing them in as quickly as he had last time.

“If he has been told that his shrimp are overdone,” Garnet whispered to Cindy softly, “he should simply cook them to a point that he would think they were undercooked.”

“Ah hear you, darlin’,” Cindy murmured back.  “But is he gon’ think of that?  Ah think he’s too cautious for that.  He’s gon’ think he  _ has _ to get them cooked.”

Ignis made a thoughtful noise, and Garnet made a startled one in response.  Clearly she hadn’t realized that he could hear her.  “What do you think, Mr. Scientia?”  It was rather endearing that she was trying to include him in a conversation that he likely hadn’t been meant to overhear.

He turned his head back towards her, chuckling slightly.  “Mr. Scientia was my father,” he said with a quiet shake of his head.  “Please, call me Ignis.”

If she was caught off guard by his familiarity, she didn't let on.  “Certainly.”  Garnet turned more towards him.  “Then what do you think, Ignis?”

For once, Ignis was more focused on the kitchen battle below him than the potential of the cameras focused on him.  He hadn’t been the winner, and he wasn’t currently compating, and he figured that the cameras would be more interested in what was happening below.  Thus, he felt a little more comfortable answering for once.

“Shrimp is a food that cannot be eaten underdone,” he replied quietly.  “I know many chefs who are apt to overcook it to compensate for their nerves.  I...have done the same thing with chicken, earlier in my career.”

There was no need to tell them that some of it had been within the last year.

“Oh, chicken can be  _ hard, _ ” Cindy whispered.  “Too easy to dry out, like shrimp.  Ah just hope he does better this time.”

It wasn’t much longer before the final countdown was heard.  Ignis clenched his fist slightly as he listened, feeling the residual nerves despite being literally above the action.  It was difficult not to be affected by what was happening in the kitchen even if one wasn’t actively participating.  Hearing Coctura - the winner of the challenge - rocking back and forth on her heels was indicative of that.

“...and stop!  Hands in the air!”  Ramsay’s voice cut through his train of thought.  The entire balcony began to clap for the competitors below, everyone eager to see who would be declared the winners of the recovery chance.

Aranea had managed to eke out a better dish - her shrimp was still slightly overspiced, but it was definitely more edible this time around.  The texture of her grits had slightly recovered as well, and that meant that she had improved enough to potentially be safe.  Tosi praised the work she had put into her recovery, commenting particularly on the shrimp’s taste.

Balthier had surprisingly buckled down and made leaps and bounds of improvement.  Ignis could hear the rings on his fingers clinking as he clenched his hands behind his back, listening to his feedback.  Sánchez was pleased with the shrimp this time, remarking that Balthier had clearly improved.

“Did you think they were underdone?” he asked, taking a bite.

“I did,” Balthier admitted ruefully.  “I still do, to be frank.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Balthier, but...you’re wrong.”  Sánchez chuckled.  “You pulled yourself together and really managed to save the dish.  The flavor of your shrimp is so much better now that I don’t have to chew on it.  And your grits were fine, just like before.”

Takka was brought forward one more time, but unfortunately he was not able to bounce back.  The consistency of his grits was still all kinds of wrong, and the shrimp were only slightly more cooked this time.  They were still inedible, though he had managed to get all of the shrimp shell pieces out this time.

“I don’t know what happened to you,” Tosi sighed.  “We expected that you would learn from your mistakes and be able to move forward, Takka, but that wasn’t the case.”

The older man ruefully admitted that he understood why this was such a problem.  “Ah just couldn’ get my head ‘round it,” he grumbled.  “Ah shoulda done better.”

“We expected more,” Tosi said, quietly but firmly.

It was clear who would not be returning, but the chefs still went through the formality of lining everyone back up.  They did not deliberate nearly as long this time, and it was only a few moments before they came back together.

“Takka.  You simply could not take the feedback you were given and improve your dish.”  Ramsay shook his head.  “Please, untie your apron and leave it at your station.  Your time in the MasterChef kitchen is finished.”

The air was solemn and heavy as Takka silently removed his apron, leaving it at his station and straightening it to perfection.  He let his hand linger on the fabric of it for only a moment before he turned and left, the silence hanging heavily over the kitchen until the doors had closed.

“Ah was hopin’ fer better fer someone from Hammerhead,” Cindy quietly sighed to Garnet after a long pause.  “Guess it’s all up to me to represent now.”

Garnet hummed sympathetically.  “You’ll do wonderfully,” she whispered softly.

“Ah sure hope so, darlin’.”  Cindy sounded pensive, and for a moment Ignis wanted to reach out to reassure her, to encourage her to believe in herself.  But he hesitated a moment too long and missed his chance as the chefs called everyone back together to wrap up the day’s filming.

Ignis was thankful that he had not been asked to stay and interview about the other challengers.  Perhaps he was already becoming boring to the cameras, but it allowed him a chance to return to the hotel and relax some.

Once he was safely shut away in his room, Ignis used his computer to do a little bit of research to find a nearby grocery store.  Thankfully there was one nearby within walking distance, so he would be able to make his way down there later, when the time was right.  He simply wanted to shower first and wash away the grime of the earlier challenge.

As he stood in the shower, water running down his body, Ignis quietly reflected on how things had been thus far.  Already two competitors had been lost, a week and a half into the competition.  How could things continue at this pace?  How long would he be here?  How far would he go?

He let out a soft groan as he massaged his scalp, shampooing his hair.  No, there were likely going to be more breaks spread out with Ramsay’s other shows.  The network was notorious for wanting to put out one Ramsay show after another, so he wasn’t surprised that they were simultaneously filming another.  But Ignis was more than a little eager to get home - the bed was far too uncomfortable and empty here in California, and to his regret the hoodie no longer smelled like Gladio.

Listen to him, dreaming of going home when one of his competitors’ dreams had abruptly come to an end today.  He really needed to check himself.

Ignis shook his head.  The walk to the nearby grocer would do him well.  Clearly he needed to get out of his own head and reflect on how well things were going.  Some fresh groceries and a bit of cooking for  _ himself _ would likely help with that.

Maybe he would even have time to call the others later to check in.  A smile crossed his lips at the thought.  He hadn’t been able to catch Gladio every day, something that he sorely regretted, but there were many nights when his lover was working late, or Ignis was simply too tired to exchange more than a perfunctory email.

Well...didn’t absence make the heart grow fonder, anyways?  It was a little bit ridiculous to Ignis - he and Gladio had never insisted on seeing each other every single day throughout their college careers, and especially once they had started their respective careers.

And yet...this was different.

Ignis groaned and shut off the water.  He felt foolish and lovesick despite knowing that he had always been an independent man.  But take him out of his element for a few weeks and now he was sentimental.  He knew it was no weakness to be in love, and he knew that Gladio would find this all to be quite charming and adorable.

A tiny smile slipped out.  Perhaps he’d mention it after he returned from the grocer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two big things:  
> 1\. HOPE YOU LIKED THE LINE, BECKS <3  
> 2\. I tried to be careful writing Ignis and Gladio's relationship. I want to make it clear they love each other but aren't stapled together. That's never been the case for them, even when they first started dating. That said, he _does_ still miss Gladio! Ignis is just embarrassed to admit how little time it's been before he really started to feel the absence. I hope that makes sense!
> 
> If you're enjoying, please consider dropping kudos and/or a comment! Comments in particular really keep me going when at times I feel like quitting, and I always do my best to respond to every single one! But regardless, thank you for reading! :)


	14. Cast Bonding TIme

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignis is called away to spend some time getting to know his fellow cast members. But just what will come out?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the long wait! I hope this chapter is worth it. Sometimes I think the non-cooking chapters are harder than the cooking ones.

_To: Ignis Scientia_

_From: Prompto Argentum_

_Subject: Uh._

 

_Hey, Iggy.  So, uh, I taught Noct a pretty cool trick.  I’ve been trying to get him to eat other stuff besides just pizza and burgers, and I’ve been having a little luck.  He likes spaghetti, but I have to go stupid light on the sauce or he won’t eat it.  Because, y’know.  Tomatoes.  I tried to explain it’s just like pizza sauce, but he just looked at me like I kicked him._

_And I thought I could get him to eat spaghetti sauce that had veggies in it :/  Sorry, Iggy._

_But uh.  Yeah.  The trick.  So you know how the saying goes “throw it at the wall and see what sticks”?  Yeah, so we tried that.  And it works really well!  The problem is, um, that it doesn’t always come back down.  When you do that.  Uh._

_...what’s the best way to get stuck spaghetti off of a ceiling?_

_I’m sorry!!  Don’t hate me!!_

_\---_

_To: Prompto Argentum_

_From: Ignis Scientia_

_Subject: Re: Um._

 

_Prompto,_

_You will need a long, flat implement to get under the pasta, if it is still fresh (so to speak).  If, however, it has been many frightened days of you debating whether or not you should email me to ask for help (as I suspect is the case), you will have to get a ladder and gently break off the dried pasta.  Once you have broken away the pieces (_ and properly swept them up _), you will need to take some sort of cleaning solution up on a ladder and dab away the mess that the pasta made._

 _I do not know where you were cooking this, but know this: if I come home and there are spaghetti stains on Noctis’ ceiling (or worse,_ mine _),_ **_they will never find your body._ ** _I do not care if I cannot see them._

_I.  Will.  Know._

_I hope things are well for you otherwise.  Do keep me updated, won’t you?_

_Best,_

_Ignis_

 

\---

Well.  Maybe it was a little overdramatic, but Ignis believed that it certainly got his point across.  He chuckled to himself as he sent the email.  Hopefully he wouldn’t scare Prompto away from messaging in the future.  He simply wished to make his intentions clear to Prompto with a bit of light humor.

Mmm.  Perhaps he should call later and explain.

He was startled out of his thoughts by a knock at the door.  Ignis left his computer at the desk and stood, making his way over to the door.  “Just a moment,” he called out.

“Ignis?  It’s me.”  The producer’s voice could be heard from the other side of the door.  “We’re about to have some cast bonding time downstairs in the restaurant, and we’d like you to join us.”

Ignis debated briefly as his hand curled around the doorknob.  Did he really want to go downstairs on the precious time he had off?  Part of him wanted to do nothing more than stay in his room and catch up on some emails, do some cooking, and perhaps call his friends.  Plus, there was always Hulu.

But part of him knew that he was lonely here in his room.  Besides, he risked looking impersonal and cold if he stayed locked up in his room for the duration of the competition.

He debated for only a moment longer before nodding.  “Thank you.  Give me a moment to gather myself and I will join you downstairs.”

“We’re looking forward to it!” the producer called warmly.  Ignis heard her retreating footsteps and suppressed the urge to sigh.

She really was just trying to be friendly, he figured.  Still, her exuberance was...tiring at times.  He gave into the urge to sigh once he figured she was far enough away.  Her certainly hoped that the way she pressed forward would allow her to either keep or improve her station once this season of the show was over.  She certainly would earn her keep by the end of the show with how persistent she had been with the contestants.

After taking a moment to gather this thoughts, Ignis made his way down to the hotel restaurant, using the familiar voices of his co-stars to guide him to where he needed to be.  He was fairly certain that he knew the direction to go based on Cindy’s warm honeyed voice leading the conversation, but before he could move that way he heard someone else’s voice calling out to him.

“Oh!  Mr. Scientia!”  It was Coctura’s lilting voice carrying across the restaurant, happy to draw his attention to her.  “We’re over here!”

Ignis couldn’t help but smile as he navigated the floor.  When his cane met the chair, he addressed the table at large.  “Is anyone sitting in this chair?”

“You are, Sugar,” Cindy said warmly.  “We’re all happy t’see ya down here!  Thought you were gon’be a hermit the whole time.”

Ignis felt his cheeks heat slightly.  “Apologies,” he said.  “It was certainly not my intention to be reclusive.”

“Well, you certainly won’t make any friends that way.”  That was Balthier’s accented voice teasing him from across the table, and the tone was light enough that Ignis could tell it wasn’t malicious.  “We’re all in this together to a degree, wouldn’t you say?”

“He values his privacy.”  Fran’s clipped voice interrupted.  “This is something I can understand.”

“Think that’s the most I’ve ever heard out of you,” Aranea replied. “But it’s not like I don’t get it. Guess they figure if we’re gonna be together for the next month or two, though, we’ve gotta be friendly.” Ignis heard her shift and sigh.

“Has the producer returned?” Garnet asked.

“I believe she went to ask Weskham to join us.” Balthier adjusted the silverware on the table. “I figure they’ll be along soon enough.”

Conversation was light and easy as they waited. Mostly they all spoke about what they wanted to order from the menu, and Ignis used this to guide his own understanding of the sorts of food available. Belatedly he realized that so often he relied on Gladio to help him navigate the menu - that was one thing that he couldn’t do alone unless it was printed in Braille - and he felt foolish asking for help from people he did not know. He supposed he would listen to what everyone else ordered and extrapolate from there. Perhaps something he liked would be available if he just asked for it.  He could always ask about the specials as well, he supposed, and nobody would find that odd.

His thoughts were interrupted when Fran made a tiny noise in her throat. “Ignis. I would ask your opinion on this dish.”

“Hm?  Of course.”  He turned his attention to her.  “How might I be of assistance, Fran?”  He was uncertain as to why she wanted his opinion, but he would certainly do his best to help her.

“I am trying to decide between two dishes.”  The menu made a plastic wobbling noise as she opened it.  “There is a seasoned steak dish with a twice-baked potato and steamed vegetables...and the other is a fish dish with wild rice and some string beans.”  She hummed.  “Either sounds quite palatable.  I would like to know your thoughts.”

Ignis imagined both dishes in his mind’s eye, thinking about how they might possibly be seasoned and how the flavors would work together.  “Well, they’re certainly good pairings,” he replied after a moment.  “I suppose it depends on what sort of flavor you’re after.  Are you interested in something heartier or a bit lighter?”

Fran seemed to consider this for a moment.  “I do not eat much,” she finally conceded.  “I suppose the lighter fish option is better for me.  Thank you, Ignis.”

“Of course.”  But still Ignis wondered why she had asked him, particularly when she seemed to never be interested in speaking with people.  Though in the back of his mind he was already thinking about the steak she had described, and…

...could it be?  Could she really have sensed his trouble and found her own way to help?

It humbled him a little to think that she may have so easily assisted him while letting him keep his dignity.  There were people he’d known for years whom he had had to have that argument with, and this utter stranger had read him in mere moments.  His gaze lingered in her direction and he remained silent for a long moment.

His thoughts were interrupted as the producer returned with Weskham at her side, a smile bright in her voice.  “Perfect!  Now we’re all here.  It’s so nice to be able to take a little time to sit together without the cameras, isn’t it?”

“I’m sure our ‘leadin’ man’ is mighty disappointed,” Cindy teased.  When the others laughed, she elaborated.  “Ya said you’ve been in lots’a shows, right?”

“That I have.”  Balthier took the ribbing in stride and smiled.  “Though it’s refreshing to be able to think without having someone there to record every moment of it.”

“We all get that,” Areanea shot back with a shake of her head.  “I’m sure _you’re_ pretty tired of them already, huh, Scientia?  That one cameraman keeps following you everywhere.”

Ignis tensed slightly, but forced himself to relax and keep his tone neutral.  “I suppose I’m just a fascinating specimen to them for whatever reason.  I figure they’ll tire of me soon enough.”

“I suppose that we each have appeal to them,” Garnet replied thoughtfully.  “They want to draw out our story, to make us more human.”

Ignis thought that over for a moment. Perhaps he’d been misreading the intentions of the Izunia fellow all along.  He had a job to do, a story to tell.

And yet...the memory of the man talking about the story ‘as he saw it’...that was hard to forget.  And Ignis kept wondering just how Ardyn would see his story.

He was interrupted by the appearance of the waiter, there to take the cast’s order.  Everyone quickly gave their orders (Fran did, indeed, order the fish) and the server left them alone once more.

Before conversation could pick back up, the producer’s phone rang.  “Oh, darn, I have to get this,” she sighed.  “Keep yourselves entertained for a while!”  She stood and then quickly left, her footsteps fading away until Ignis could no longer hear them.

“She’s so personable,” Coctura said with a little smile.  “It was so nice of her to set this all up for us!”

“It was,” Weskham agreed, sipping at his drink.  “It’s nice to engage in conversation and company.”

“I feel like we have been together for so much, and yet I know so little about all of you.”  There was a soft rustle as Garnet laid her napkin in her lap.

Balthier’s voice was wry.  “Shall we play another ‘getting to know you’ game, then?”

“Oh please, darlin’, _no,_ ” Cindy cut in sharply.  “If’n I hafta play another one’a those, I may scream.”  Everyone laughed for a moment, remembering the awkward first day they’d all spent together.  “Bless her for tryin’, but that was sure a thing.”

“Though it did make me curious,” Garnet said cautiously.  “I have...been wondering why each of you have decided to enter this competition.”

There was a long pause while they all turned over the question.  Nobody quite knew what to say, the air surrounding them seeming almost... _wary,_ as if they didn’t know what to say, what was safe to say.  That was a thing that the camerapeople had been slowly trying to tease out of them over the episodes filmed thus far, to varying degrees of success.  One one hand, Balthier was all too happy to regale the cameraperson with all sorts of anecdotes about his time in the city of Ivalice.  On the other hand, Ignis had heard multiple producers approach Fran, trying to figure out what made her tick, to no avail.  Each question was met with an icy stare and a short “there is nothing to tell”.  And while Balthier would likely tell anyone about his reasons for entering, Ignis sincerely doubted that Fran would be any more open to sharing now.

“I’d better not see a goddamn camera anywhere around here,” Aranea grunted in response.  “I don’t spill my guts for an audience.”

“Well, sweetheart, y’know that yer prolly gon’have to tell them at least a _lil_ more about yourself,” Cindy wheedled.  “That’s just how this sorta thing goes, innit?”

Aranea sucked her teeth, and it was a distinctively loud tell of her annoyance.  “Yeah, sorry, but I’m gonna pass on that.”

“I fear you’re on the wrong sort of show, then,” Weskham interrupted, gentle but firm.  “You know they will work it out of us, especially if you intend to be declared the Masterchef.”

“All they need to know is that I can cook,” Aranea fired back.  “Nobody needs to know anything else about me.”

“I know where you’re coming from.  I certainly don’t share my story with any stranger who so much as smiles at me.”  Weskham’s voice was still that low, gentle rumble, and Ignis could practically feel Aranea’s ire lessening as he spoke - whether from listening to his words, or his tone coaxing the tempo and volume of the conversation to be brought down.  “However...think back, Aranea.  Can you remember a single reality show winner who did not have every intimate detail of their story displayed?”  There was another long pause as Aranea, presumably, thought his words over.  “If you choose to continue putting up a wall, that is your choice.  On the other hand, do remember that people who are not found to be interesting are more likely to be pressed into elimination behind the scenes.  That is the nature of show business, my dear.  Remember, your heart is yours to follow.  Just see to it that you proceed with caution.”

And though he had been speaking to Aranea, Ignis suddenly heard Weskham’s voice more directly, and he knew that the older man had turned to face him.

Was Weskham _warning_ him?  Ignis knew that he had been quite reclusive up to this point, reluctant to offer more than was strictly necessary, but he had answered things pleasantly enough, hadn’t he?  He would always answer a question, even if not in the most direct of ways…

Unbidden, his first interaction with Dino came to the forefront.

 _“Everyone’s talkin’ about_ you _.  They all want to know just who the blind chef is; what his story is.  You got us all curious, Ignis, and if you’re hopin’ you can skate by with your head down...well, I don’t think it’s gonna happen.  You’re too high-profile, so t’speak...Just watch yer back.  We’re all playin’ for keeps.”_

Ignis grunted softly as he crossed his arms.  Well, he’d certainly had plenty to think about.  Could he really continue to keep to himself as things were now?

He’d been burned plenty of times before by people who had appeared to be well-meaning.  People could use you, take what they wanted from you - whether it was your money, your time, your energy, or your story - and then would discard you once they were finished with you.  That had happened long before he’d gone blind, even.  He remembered so-called friends from college who had stopped coming to call after his injury, after he wasn’t ready to share the intimate details of the trauma he’d endured.

And yet...there were plenty of people in the world who weren’t like that, weren’t there?  Of course his friends - no, his _family_ \- had never used him in such a way.  But weren’t there others as well?  Briefly he remembered the smile of the young boy from his cooking class, the one he’d tried to pull from the burning kitchen before he was harmed -

No.  The child deserved more than to be defined by the accident - just like Ignis himself.

Instead, Ignis remembered Talcott, the boy who’d smiled and glowed with pride the first time he’d successfully made scrambled eggs with crème fraîche under Ignis’ tutelage; who’d begged his grandfather to take him to the hospital, just so he could see Ignis and apologize through his tears for his part in the accident; who continued to call on him, to hesitantly share the little progress he’d made in the kitchen since the accident; who was too afraid to even approach a can of cooking spray for fear that he would set his own home ablaze and hurt someone else in his life.

There were good people in the world.  And perhaps some of them were even seated around this table.

Ignis cleared his throat and lifted his chin.  “If we are still answering the original question as to why we are here...I am willing to start.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie. This chapter makes me hella nervous. Thanks so much to mahbecks, who gave it a good once-over and reassured me <3


	15. Backstories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignis finally shares his story and inspires a few more to speak up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have few excuses. Please enjoy my offering in lieu of an explanation.

Ignis heard the shifting of every chair at the table as they all turned towards him and he felt his stomach tighten.  Well, the words were out; there was no turning back at this point.  He had offered, and now he had to make good on that.

“Mr. Scientia, you don’t have to jump in like that,” Coctura quickly replied.  She knew that he’d been private up to that point and didn’t want him to feel obligated to speak up just because of the turn the conversation had taken.

“Thank you, Coctura, but it’s truly no bother.”  Ignis paused, smiling as the waiter came to the table and placed their drinks down in front of them.  He gladly accepted his coffee and sipped at it, enjoying the warmth sliding down his throat before setting the cup aside to speak again.  “Though it has been a while, I am...willing to begin the conversation.”

He cleared his throat, gathering his thoughts before beginning.  “Well...I’ve always been cooking.  Ever since I was young, it was...a passion of mine.  I wanted to know where my food came from, and that led me to wanting to learn how it was prepared, and then - perhaps because I’ve always been anal-retentive - I decided to learn how to do it myself.”  He smiled, feeling heartened as he heard some of the others chuckling in response.  It emboldened him to continue.  “After college, I moved to the city of Insomnia as a permanent resident and began my job.  However...I still wanted to do something with cooking.”  He smiled, remembering that Gladio had thought him mad after telling him that he wanted to take on even more duties, especially something _outside_ of work.  “So I found our local school district was in need of some after-school programming.  I decided to begin teaching a cooking class.”

“That’s admirable, Ignis.”  Garnet smiled warmly as she drank her tea.  “You saw a need in your community and filled it.”

“The children seemed to enjoy it well enough.”  Ignis smiled, taking his cup back into his hands.  For a long moment he debated whether or not he could stop there.  He was fairly certain that he could have stopped the story at that point, maintaining that he was doing Masterchef for the children.  Nobody would question him, there would be a few more warm comments about the kids, and they would move on.

But he knew that wasn’t the truth.  With his commitment to being more open moving forward, he couldn’t stop.

“There was an accident about two years ago, during one of our classes.”  He kept his tone even, knowing that he could treat it as if it was just another thing that had happened in his life.  Perhaps if he kept it from sounding terribly traumatic, the others would follow his lead.  “It was, as I’m sure many of you had wondered, how I lost my vision.  I have not been back to my class since then.”  He felt nearly detached from his own body, as if he were listening to someone with an accent tell his story.  It was...unnerving, to say the least.

He took only a moment to clear his throat.  Telling people that he barely knew about this was equal parts liberating and terrifying.  “But it has been two years since then.  I...decided that it was time to see just what I can still do.  Just how far I had come.  When my friend made the tape and sent it in...I went for it.”

He smiled, taking a long sip of his coffee and listening to the ensuing silence.

Well.   _That_ had been terrifying.

There was an extended silence that left Ignis completely uncertain of how to proceed.  Perhaps he should have gone last, so as not to make everyone else feel awkward.  He had just opened his mouth to apologize for his audacity in sharing his story when someone finally spoke.

“Aw, Sugar.”  Cindy shifted in her seat and turned more towards him.  “I ain’t gon’ tell you how sorry I am for ya.  I am, but I’m pretty sure yer sick of hearin’ that, aren’tcha.”  Ignis let out a quiet huff of laughter in response and she chuckled softly.  “But ya’ve got grit.  I like that.”

“I...oh, goodness, Ignis.”  That was Garnet, and her voice was slightly muffled - likely from her covering her mouth with her hands.  “I wish I knew what to say.  Nothing I could ever say would come close to everything that _needs_ to be said - ”

“My dear.”  Weskham’s voice interrupted her firmly but gently.  “There is not always something that needs to be said.”

“Please, do not trouble yourself with it, Garnet.”  Ignis waved his hand.  “I have come to terms with my situation and it is not necessary to say anything.”

“Yet you return to the kitchen once more.”  Fran quietly sipped her water.  “Your tenacity knows no bounds.  It is admirable.”  There was the sound of her setting her glass down.  “Perhaps if you were able to share your story, I could do the same.”

That made _everyone_ pause.  Even Weskham seemed interested, a soft hum leaving his throat.  The ever-reclusive Fran, thinking to share her past?  It was enough for every competitor to wait silently for what she might have to say.

“Fran.”  Balthier’s voice cut in, terse and a touch concerned, but Ignis could practically hear the _look_ she fixed him with in response and Balthier fell silent.

“It is only fair.”  There was a pause in which Fran gathered herself.  “My sisters are the proprietors of a restaurant called The Wood.  I wish to create the opportunity to speak with them once more.  This is why I have entered.”

Everyone waited for a moment, but as she returned to her drink it was clear that Fran had nothing else to add.  Even in opening up, she was still quite reserved.  Her explanation left almost as many questions as before, but nobody seemed willing to speak up and ask her more.

It seemed that Fran’s stories would be a gift, only given when the time was right.

“I hope that your efforts bring you the results you desire,” Ignis finally said.  He knew nothing about Fran’s family situation, but he could empathize with wanting to see someone again.  He could only infer that she had been parted from her sisters under less than favorable circumstances and wished to rebuild that relationship, and that was something he could understand.

“You are very kind.”  Fran sat back straight in her chair and met each curious state leveled at her.  No, there was nothing more to add, and she made that clear.

“Well, if we’re all gonna share, then I guess I’m next.”  Cindy laughed a little.  “I entered because I wanted somethin’ that was just fer me,” Cindy interjected.  “Sure, I love workin’ on cars with Paw-Paw, but that’s _our_ thing.  An’ ev’ry’one thinks that’s more _his_ thing.”  She sighed.  “I wanted somethin’ that was fer _me._  Paw-Paw was mighty excited, even if’n he’s complainin’ that he’s gotta run the garage by himself fer a while.”  She chuckled to herself.  “He’s real grumpy.  But I think he’s gon’ be proud.”

Ignis smiled and sipped his coffee.  “I’m certain he will be,” he said warmly.  “You’re accomplishing something that you should be pleased with, and it’s something that you wish to pursue.”

“Aww, thanks, Ignis.”  Cindy smiled at him, and Ignis was touched by just how genuine and warm she was.  He could feel it easily radiating off of her.  “Yer sweet.”

Aranea sucked her teeth lightly, her heels tapping against the metal leg under the table.  Ignis heard her breath hitch slightly, an unspoken word forming in her mouth, but then her jaw shut with a soft _click_ .  Clearly she wasn’t ready to open up and share her story just yet, and Ignis couldn’t say he blamed her.  It was _brutal_ to be so raw and honest about one’s past, and Ignis frankly couldn’t believe he’d opened up about his own.  He tilted his head towards her, giving her a small nod to convey that he understood the feeling, and he heard a soft sigh from her direction and the tapping stopped.  He pieced together the nonverbal cues and bit back a smile.

She’d share if and when she was ready, but they’d all shown that it was an open environment where others could do so.

The conversation halted briefly when the food was delivered, and Ignis briefly regretted that he could not see the presentation of the plate before him.  It smelled amazing, however, and he took up his fork for the first bite of paella.

It tasted just as divine as it smelled, and Ignis closed his better eye in appreciation of the taste.  The shellfish was perfectly seasoned, and the rice was just the right texture.  He chuckled to himself as he reflected on just how nice it was to have someone cook for _him_ for once.

There was a pause as everyone began to eat, only punctuated by the occasional sound of someone murmuring about how their dish tasted.  Clearly everyone was just as satisfied with their meal as he was.

After a few minutes of quiet eating, Garnet broke the contented silence.  “Since I was the one to ask the question...I suppose I should answer it as well.”

Ignis set down his fork and waited as Garnet found her voice.  He had been curious, of course, but he would never have asked her out of respect for her privacy, just as she had afforded him.

“I have been living under my mother’s thumb for my entire life.”  Garnet quietly laid her own cutlery on the table.  “Decisions have been made for me since the moment I was born, and I have been groomed to inherit the family name and business.  I have had...very little that was meant for myself.  Much like you, Cindy.”  The older woman made a soft, sympathetic noise in response.  “But...there is a bright spot in my life.  I have Zidane and two dear family friends - Beatrix and Steiner.”  The smile on her face made her voice brighter, and the general warmth she radiated was contagious.  “They have all always encouraged me to find my own identity and to be my own person.  In fact, it was Steiner who first taught me to cook, when I was young.”  She chuckled quietly.  “Though he was always blustering about safety in the kitchen more than anything.  He taught me the mechanics of cooking, and Beatrix taught me the tastes.  Together...they’re amazing.  It is much like watching a dance.  Steiner can pin down any technical aspect of a dish, and Beatrix can flavor it to perfection.  And though I followed them at first, I quickly found my own palate and my own voice.”  Her tone was stronger than Ignis had ever heard it, and he could tell just how much these people meant to Garnet.

“They were the ones who encouraged me to audition when Zidane announced his intention to do so,” she added.  “And they have been holding things down at home, so that I am able to pursue this opportunity.  Mother is unhappy, of course...but I hope to win and to prove to her that this is no phase.  That I am capable of this.”  Suddenly she cleared her throat.  “I apologize.  I did not intend to delve so far into my story.”

“It’s fine, kid,” Aranea abruptly cut in, and Ignis could not hide his smile this time.  Even if she was not ready to actively participate, she was at least listening.  He wondered what about Garnet’s story had struck her to answer, though he suspected he would never know.

“It sounds as if they’ve been good for you,” Weskham said in between bites.  “It takes time to find your own path, Garnet.  I feel that this distance from your mother will be good for both of you.”

“Truly...I hope so.”  Garnet smiled gratefully and returned to her meal.

After a moment of thought, Cindy chuckled.  “Well, seems like we all got t’know each other a bit better,” she pointed out.  “An’ we didn’ even have to play some silly game fer it.”

Suddenly, the producer’s voice interrupted them from a few feet away.  “Hello!  Sorry about that; had to take a call about our filming schedule.”  With cheer in her tone, she hurriedly crossed back to their table and took a seat in front of the plate she’d ordered.  “Oooh, it looks delicious!”

They all greeted her with varying degrees of enthusiasm as she tucked into her meal.  The producer took a few bites before brightly addressing the group.  “Now!  Since we’re all together again…”  She paused, and Ignis pressed his lips together in anticipation of what was to come.  He could _hear_ it coming a mile away.

“Why don’t we play Two Truths and a Lie?  Just to get to know each other a little better!”

The squeaking noise that escaped Balthier made Ignis have to smother his laugh in his cup of coffee.

While he appreciated the effort she made, they didn’t need games.  They were already beginning to build a camaraderie of sorts, with or without the producer’s intervention.  A few of them had opened up and had shared their stories.

And for now, that was good enough for Ignis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should probably name this producer at some point. Would it be weird to just do it out of nowhere?
> 
> Dedicated to Becks and Atropa, who have been my biggest cheerleaders and encourage me to never give up on this story <3
> 
> [Edit 12/22 - Cindy’s accent was getting too thick and I made a few changes]


	16. Choosing Teams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first team challenge is about to begin! What will be the challenge, who will be the captains, and who will be on the teams?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should apologize that my summaries sound like clickbait for the summary of a TV show.
> 
> (I'm sort of not sorry since it seems to work.)
> 
> I will apologize for how long it takes me to write.

When the cooks were called in for filming two days later, there was a definite buzzing energy to the group that hadn’t been there before.  Ignis wondered if the others, like him, were chomping at the bit to get back into the kitchen and attack the next challenge.  He had no inkling of what it would be, but he was more than ready to face it head-on. 

“Welcome back, home cooks!”  Tosi’s voice greeted them all from the front and the competitors called out cheerfully in return.  Everyone had had a few days’ rest and they were all feeling considerably recharged, so their voices were all brighter.

“Please, quickly come down to the front, because today’s challenge is one that we’re excited to see you tackle.”  Ramsay joined in the greeting and urged them along.

Ignis followed the others, walking to the front as he racked his brain for ideas as to what the next challenge could be.  There were a wide variety of things that they could be asked to do here today, and he wasn’t sure which one it would be.

Once the contestants had all assembled at the front,  Sánchez welcomed the team of cooks.  “For today’s challenge, you’re going to have to work together.”. He paused and scanned those present before his lips curled into a smile.  “Today, you’ll be running the line at the Giza Plains Hotel.”

Excited murmurs rose up among the group.  “The Giza Plains Hotel?” Garnet repeated.  “Mother has stayed there before; it’s a rich and opulent place.  And we are to cook for the guests?”

“Correct,” Ramsay answered.  “You lot will split into two teams and will run the line at the Giza Plains Hotel.”

Ignis’ ears perked up.  He wasn’t a professional chef by nature; none of them were.  This would be quite different from cooking in his own kitchen, or even cooking in the Masterchef kitchen - this was the context of a restaurant and they would be expected to perform at the level of professional line cooks.  How interesting.

“How are we gonna choose the teams?” Cindy asked aloud.

“Fantastic question.”  Tosi nodded.  “The cooks with the two strongest dishes from the last challenge will be team captains and will choose their teams.”

So Fran, Coctura, or Garnet would be the captains.  Ignis nodded to himself; it made sense.  He wondered which two would be the captains and who they would choose as their teams.  If his math was correct, there would be four people per team.

The idea that his chance to win relied on another person - another group of people - made him more than a little nervous.  He was not solely responsible for his own win - not only would others be potentially helping to pave his way to victory, but he would be tasked with carrying others there, too.  It was a lot of responsibility to be on a team, even if he was not the captain, and he knew it. 

“Our first team captain will be the winner of the previous challenge,” Tosi said.  “This home cook showed us that her flavors are a force to be reckoned with and that she knows how to handle herself in the kitchen.  Our first team captain…”  She paused and her eyes scanned the room.  “Coctura!”

Everyone clapped and the young woman smiled.  “Thank you!” she said brightly.  It was clear that she was quite proud of her accomplishments, as she should be.  It was no small feat to be named a team captain, and he wished her the best.

“Our second team captain also had a strong dish, and she’s also taken steps to show us that she could be the next Masterchef.  This person is…”  Another dramatic pause.  “Garnet!”

“Me?” Garnet replied, obviously bewildered by the decision as the others clapped for her.  Ignis clapped a little more firmly for her in response; he knew what it was like to doubt yourself and he wanted her to take heart.  If she could get over her nerves, she would make a fine leader.

Once the applause died down, Ramsay addressed the captains.  “Right, then.  Coctura, Garnet.  Come up here please; it’s time for you to pick your teams.”

The women stepped forward and faced the other competitors.  Sánchez turned to the captains.  “Alright.  Coctura, since you were our winner of the last round, you’ll get first pick for your team.  So who do you want to start with?”

Coctura thought for a long moment, her eyes scanning the line of people before her.  “Let’s see,” she said thoughtfully.  “I want to pick a home cook who has a strong sense of flavor as well as a positive attitude.  This person always does her best even when things are tough.  My first pick is Cindy!”

The cooks clapped briefly as Cindy smiled and crossed to her team captain.  “Well, thank ya kindly,” she said warmly.

“Garnet, you get next pick.”

Garnet made a thoughtful noise as she scanned the remaining competitors.  “Very well,” she said.  “My first choice will be a home cook who carries herself well during challenges.  Her palate is refined; this is clear as she was one of the top competitors of the last dish.”  She drew herself up a bit taller.  “Fran.  I would like you to be on my team.”

Fran said nothing as she walked to stand next to Garnet among a smattering of applause.  Somehow Ignis had come to expect this from her.  There was nothing to say in this moment, so she said nothing.

Listening to their reasoning made Ignis wonder who would choose him to be on their team and why.  He lifted his chin slightly, trying to imagine who would be the next choice for Coctura’s team.

Ignis also wondered which team he would rather be on.  Coctura was a solid, positive force from what he’d seen so far, and she worked at a small food truck; she had some idea of what a restaurant line would be like.  But how would that translate to her being a leader?  Then there was Garnet, who was warm but uncertain and clearly still coming into her own.  Was she ready to step up and command a line?  He didn’t have an answer immediately for which woman he would rather be his captain, but he was ready for whoever would choose him.

“The next person I choose,” Coctura said, “is a strong competitor. He’s charismatic and has a good sense of what to do in the kitchen. My second choice is Balthier!”

“We’ll seize victory,” Balthier promised her amid the applause as he moved towards his team  with a confident smirk. 

Ignis listened as Balthier walked.  That left only a few - Weskham, Aranea, and himself.  Weskham had stood out before, and Aranea had been improving - where did Ignis fall on that spectrum of choice?

“My next choice is a cook who has surprised me.”  Garnet spoke, drawing Ignis’ ear.  “His plating is beautiful and his sense of taste is better than mine.  Ignis, I would like you to be on my team.”

Ignis nodded in Garnet’s direction as he took his cane and Monica followed.  He could tell that Garnet was to his left, but it was nice to have Monica confirm as such.  It would look rather foolish if he approached the wrong team.  “I’ll do my best,” he assured Garnet as he made to stand by her side.

Tosi looked between the remaining competitors.  “Coctura.  When you make this choice, you will be choosing for both teams.  Choose carefully.”

“Of course!”  Coctura hummed thoughtfully as she looked over the two left standing.  “The last person I want for my team is strong and independent.  I’m eager to see what she can do as part of my team!  Aranea, you are my pick.”

Aranea seemed surprised by the choice, but said nothing as she made her way across the soundstage to stand by Coctura’s side.  There was a pause before she decided to speak up.  “We got this, kid,” she said, and Ignis realized it was the first time he had ever heard her say anything even remotely positive towards any of the other competitors during the actual competition.  It made him smile despite her being on the opposing team.

Sánchez nodded towards Weskham.  “Weskham, that leaves you with Garnet.”

“Certainly.”  He nodded and smiled.  Though he hadn’t been chosen by either team, it didn’t seem to bother him as he stood by his captain.  “Let’s do our best, my dear.”

Garnet smiled in return and nodded firmly.  “Of course.  I have an amazing team behind me, do I not?”  Her voice sounded surer than it had before, and Ignis felt heartened by her apparent newfound strength.

“Interesting picks from both team captains.”  Ramsay’s voice was thoughtful as he examined both teams.  “Right!  Teams!  All of you, run and change into your chef’s whites.  The car will be ready for you in 15 minutes!”

“Yes, chef!” they all shouted back before turning to leave the soundstage.  Cindy immediately turned to Coctura, chattering excitedly about what they were going to be doing and what potential types of dishes they would be making.

“Team, I believe we should begin formulating a strategy.” Garnet’s voice cut through the other noise, and Weskham grumbled approvingly.  “Though we may not yet know what our dishes will be, we can assume that they will be standard lunch fare.  There will be a protein, a vegetable, and a starch, at the very least.  Is there anyone who is confident with handling our vegetables?”

They talked until they reached their splitting point, bidding each other farewell as they each broke away to the dressing area where they were able to change into their whites.  Ignis and Monica went one way, Ignis following the sound of her voice towards the area cordoned off for him.  When Ignis reached out to reorient himself, he felt a curtain covering a small stall set up for him to change.  He heard footsteps approach and turned his head in that direction.

“Hi, Ignis,” one of the crew greeted him.  “We have your chef’s whites here.  I see you’ve found the changing stall as well.  Here you go!”  His voice was warm and he waited patiently as Ignis reached out to take the jacket from him.

“Thank you,” Ignis replied, though the man was already running off to the next cast member.

“I can step away if you’d rather,” she said to Ignis.  Her lips were clearly curled in a smile, the energy from the coming team challenge infectious.

“If you wouldn’t mind,” Ignis replied.  “Won’t be but a minute.”

“Certainly.  Call me when you’re ready.”  Monica excused herself then, leaving Ignis alone.

He stepped into the stall, making certain the curtain was completely closed behind him before he set about unbuttoning his shirt.  Ignis smiled to himself, imagining Gladio telling him that he was being too shy about his body and that he should have just stripped the shirt off.   _ Not everyone is as shameless as you, Gladio, _ Ignis would have retorted before shutting the curtain in Gladio’s face with a chuckle.  Ignis wasn’t shy about his body so much as modest - the few scars on his body from the heat of the accident honestly didn’t bother him as much as the ones on his face.  But still, he preferred to keep his body for just himself - and for Gladio, of course.

He hung his button-down up as best as he could on the mirror he felt out in front of him, not finding a hanger immediately available.  He’d have to use the one that his chef’s whites were hung on, likely.  Ignis was thankful that he usually wore an undershirt under his shirt, as it would make the jacket more bearable to wear.  He removed it from the hanger and shrugged it on, quickly feeling out and doing up the buttons as best as he could.  Once they were finished, he ran his fingers over them to ensure that they were done up evenly and he hadn’t missed any holes.  It wasn’t as if Ignis had his own chef’s whites at home, never having been a professional chef, so he had never worn them before.

A little thrill ran through him as he realized that he was wearing a professional chef’s jacket, about to cook for prestigious guests at one of the biggest hotels in the country.  He was about to run a line for the first time in his life, completely changing the context of his cooking.

Facing the mirror that was frankly useless to him and imagining how he looked, a smile crossed Ignis’ face.

If only Gladio could see him now.


	17. Falling in Line to Run a Line

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been a while, and I apologize. Hope this has been worth the wait. <3

Ignis listened silently to the bustle around him, hearing the producers rushing to get the cameras set up.  Someone was over, checking out his microphone, and he recognized the producer that was always heard flitting in and out of production.  She tugged on his apron slightly, making sure that it rested straight and that the microphone wouldn’t come off in his bustling about the kitchen.  “You’re all set,” she said warmly before rushing off to check on someone else.

And in that moment, Ignis felt almost overwhelmingly alone.  It wasn’t very often that he was left completely on his own in an unfamiliar environment with no understanding of what was around him.  Monica had been called away by the judges and one of the producers almost as soon as she had entered with Ignis and he had been waiting for her return.  He heard the producer getting everyone else on his team set up and he could faintly hear the voices of the other team in the other kitchen. They’d been corralled off, likely to prevent any sort of strategy overlap and to stave off any complaints of cheating.

Ignis heard someone stop beside him.  Their gait was light and delicate, and he knew that it must be Garnet.  “Good afternoon, captain,” he greeted her with a smile. She started before letting out a chuckle.

“I do not believe that I will get used to that,” she finally said.  “How are you feeling about our challenge, Ignis?”

Ignis thought before answering.  “We have a challenge before us,” he said.  “I have never run a line before, though I cannot say whether or not any of the others have done so.”

“It seems as if they try to choose people who do not have a lot of formal kitchen experience, though there have been people who work at food trucks and such,” Garnet replied.  “I do not know if our teammates have this sort of experience, however.” She paused thoughtfully. “Did Fran not say that she once worked at a restaurant with her sisters? Perhaps she has the experience.”

Ignis made a thoughtful noise, and there was a long silence before Garnet finally spoke again.  “...I do not know why Chef Ramsay chose me as the team captain,” she admitted. “What experience can I claim to have?  I have never worked in a restaurant - with my mother’s position, she has never allowed me to work a day. How can I lead us to victory when I have never worked with others?”  It was then that she seemed to catch herself and she made a noise of frustration. “I apologize, Ignis. You have concerns of your own and I have no right to unleash mine on you.”  She laughed, sounding embarrassed. “Forgive me. It is quite easy to talk to you.”

Ignis returned the smile and shook his head reassuringly.  “Do not apologize,” he said warmly. “I have been told that I can be easy to speak with.”  The demurral gave him time to think about what he needed to say in response. It was clear that this was a deep-seated feeling, planted long before Garnet had ever stepped foot in the Masterchef kitchen.  “Garnet...you may never have led before, but you said it yourself. They choose people without a lot of kitchen experience. We are home cooks, not professional chefs.”

“I suppose,” Garnet conceded.  “It is...an intentional decision.”

Ignis nodded firmly.  “While we are held to high expectations, we’re also expected to learn as we go.  And we will learn with you there to lead us.”

Now she hesitated again.  “I have never led,” she said quietly.  “I am not sure that I even know how.”

Ignis felt for her, truly.  And yet time was running short, and they would need a leader in the kitchen.  He turned to face her.

“Garnet,” he said, voice firm but kind.  “I have the utmost confidence in you. I implore you to think about those who are behind you as well.  Would they follow your lead?”

She stopped.  “Beatrix and Steiner,” she whispered.  “...they practiced with me when they heard of my intent to audition.  They challenged me to lead them in our kitchen.”

Ignis smiled. “And how did that play out?” he prompted gently.

“I...needed much practice,” Garnet acknowledged with a sigh.  “And I feel that Steiner and Beatrix would do anything I asked of them.  But there was something...powerful about being able to lead a kitchen. I just do not know how to lead a line.”

“They reviewed it briefly with us,” Ignis reminded her.  That was the first thing that had happened when they came into the kitchen; the judges had given a quick demonstration of how tickets were read and what the lingo meant, and what the captain/expediter would be expected to do.  They all had an understanding, but clearly Garnet was still uncertain. “You’ll read the ticket that comes in and make sure we all respond to you, and you’ll check our work when it comes out to be sure it’s up to standards.”

Garnet nodded hesitantly.  “This...is something that I can do,” she finally said.  

“Two minutes!  Competitors stand by!”  The producer’s voice cut through the noise in the kitchen and Ignis tilted his ear towards the sound.

“We should move to our station,” he said.

“We should,” Garnet agreed.  “Do you need assistance?”

Ignis recognized Monica’s gait approaching them from the other side of the kitchen and he gave Garnet a smile.  “I will check in with Monica, but thank you,” he said. “I will join you shortly.”

Garnet bid him farewell and moved to the station, leaving Ignis and Monica together.  

“It’s a decently sized kitchen,” Monica murmured to him.  “But you’re going to be in close quarters with everyone here.  I may not be able to guide you as closely as before.”

Ignis made a soft noise in return.  He had suspected this would be the case, but having it confirmed was at least a comfort in that he knew what would be coming.  “Very well,” he murmured. “I’ll have to hope that they put me on a station that I’m able to run relatively independently.”

“You do well without my help for the most part,” Monica pointed out.  “But just remember you can ask for accommodations.”

Ignis nodded.  “I am aware,” he said.  “I’ll have to see where they assign me and re-evaluate from there.”

“That sounds reasonable.  We can speak again once you’re at your assigned station.”  Monica’s tone was once again no-nonsense, all business, and Ignis appreciated it.  Monica never treated him as a nuisance or a hindrance, and he appreciated her tendency to get right to the heart of a matter.

With her guidance, Ignis made his way to the rest of his team and waited for further instruction.  It wasn’t a minute later that they were joined by Ramsay, who called both teams together for his demonstration of the menu.

“Right, listen up.”  Ramsay’s voice drew everyone in.  “We’ve got your menu coming up. Are you ready for this?”

The menu was quickly described and laid out for the contestants - it consisted of a bourbon caramelized bacon and heirloom BLT with fried eggs and smoked gouda cheese for one dish, and a chicken kale rice bowl for the other.  Speaking about a mile a minute, Ramsay illustrated how to make each dish, explaining the steps that needed to be taken along the way and pointing out any special considerations that should be made.

“Right, there you have it.  Quickly, to your stations. Captains, figure out who’s where.  We open in ten minutes.” He clapped his hands sharply and left the kitchen, likely to go out and speak with the guests at the hotel.

Garnet gathered her team around, and they all crammed against the front of the line.  “We should review what we are making,” she said to them. “I have taken extensive notes for anything we should consider.  First up, the bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwich.”

“A bourbon caramelized bacon and heirloom BLT with fried eggs and smoked gouda cheese.”  Weskham nodded. “It sounds divine. But it needs to be done to perfection on each order.”

“Those eggs will have to be over medium and not any harder,” Ignis mused.  “If we want that deliciously runny centre, that is.”

“Indeed we do,” Fran agreed.  “That was how it was demonstrated to us, and it is how we must serve it.”

“The other main dish is a chicken kale rice bowl,” Garnet added.  “We will have to be certain that we do not run out of any of the ingredients as we go.  Now we need to assign who will be where.”

“ _You_ need to assign who will be where,” Fran said, firm but gentle.  “You are our captain, Garnet.”

The young woman paused before responding.  “Yes, of course.” She cleared her throat. “Weskham, I want you on the meats.  That needs to be done absolutely perfectly and I trust you to do it.”

“Certainly.”  He gave her a nod.  “I will make the chicken and bacon.”

“Fran, I would like you to be on the rice and vegetables.  You have the finesse to be certain the rice isn’t too sticky.”

“Very well.  I shall begin the rice immediately.”  Fran quickly stepped away to begin the rice, knowing that it would take time to cook properly in order to be ready.

“Ignis…”  There was the briefest of pauses and Ignis knew that Garnet was struggling with where to put him.  He wanted to suggest where he should be, knowing where the holes they had left were, but he bit his tongue.  She was captain; this was her decision. “I would like you on the fried eggs and the chipotle mayonnaise.  You have the precision for flavoring that I want there.”

That was where he would have placed himself; her instincts were strong.  “I shall _fry_ my best.”  A small smile curled his lips and then the most amazing thing happened.  Garnet let out an adorable little _splutter_ and laughed briefly, her voice like tinkling bells.

“Oh my goodness,” she said, mirth in her tone.  But as quickly as it was there, it was gone and she was back to business.  “Right. I shall expedite and assist with plating.”

With that set, Ignis turned back to where he knew Monica to be standing.  “How shall we do this?” he asked her. “I haven’t had a chance to familiarize myself with this kitchen.”

Monica gave him a quick verbal rundown, a touch harried because she knew there was little time left after their prep work.  Despite the time constraint, it was as complete a picture as Ignis could have asked for - Monica truly was a blessing and was fantastic at her job.

“Teams!  Are you ready?”  It seemed that they had finished planning just in time; Ramsay was calling them. “We open in two minutes!”

“Yes, chef!” they all called back.  Ignis felt a grin cross his face. Yes.  He was ready to begin, and he was exhilarated at the thought of running a line.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is entirely cooking. <3


	18. Teamwork

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The teams learn their styles for working together, and a new voice emerges...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry. 
> 
> Life is hard. Creating is harder. 
> 
> Thanks for being here. <3

It was only a moment later that the doors swung open with a distinctive squeak and hurried footsteps approached their stations.  “Two BLTs and a bowl of chicken kale rice, please!” a server called, handing a ticket to Garnet and an identical one to Coctura. Both teams would cook the same dish to let the guests fairly judge both teams on equal footing.

Garnet took the ticket in trembling hands and called out to her team, acutely aware of the lens of Izunia’s camera focused on her.  She felt another wave of self doubt, but tried to tread in it rather than drown in it. Clearing her throat, she called. “Two BLTs, one chicken kale bowl, please!”

Ignis had his mouth open to respond, but another voice cut him off.  Fran bellowed “Heard!” so loudly that Ignis could hear the other team slowing to listen.  It was clear that she had been in a kitchen before, as the naturally reserved Fran could judiciously use her voice in this environment.

“Boy, she sure can holler!” Cindy cheerfully said from the other kitchen, and Ignis smiled to himself.  Though he couldn’t say for sure, it felt as if she were leading Garnet by example.

Garnet was tempted to leave it there with Fran speaking for the group, but she knew she couldn’t.  “Thank you, Fran,” she began, “but I must hear from you all! Two BLTs and a chicken kale rice bowl,  _ please! _ ”

This time they all responded immediately.  “Heard!” Ignis called before they all chimed in.  “Two BLTs and a chicken kale rice bowl, Garnet!”

Fran glanced at the man behind the camera and lifted her chin slightly.  There. Now the young woman knew what a kitchen should sound like, and perhaps the cameraman would be so focused on her emergent voice that he would miss Garnet’s doubt.

They worked together in harmony and with precision, quickly preparing their first order.  Ignis worked with the eggs, delicately testing the give of it to be sure it wasn’t too underdone.  The bacon sizzled, drowning out any real attempts at conversation, but Ignis was so focused on his own dish that this was just fine with him.

“The sandwich bread is ready!” Garnet called, and Ignis took the plate.  He felt for the bread before spreading the chipotle mayonnaise over it and asked Garnet for visual confirmation of how it looked.  “Ignis, well done. Let’s get the other components in the sandwich.”

It took only a minute for the others to get together, putting together the other dishes.  Ignis smelled the bacon coming over and stepped back after carefully setting his egg on the bread.  Fran approached with the vegetables and the put the sandwich together.

“Two BLTs for table one!” Weskham called out as he placed the plated sandwiches in front of Garnet. Quickly she went about wiping stray crumbs with her cloth, but paused as she examined them closely.

“Apologies, but this…” She paused and swallowed. “This is not acceptable!”

They all turned towards her in shock, having never heard such a loud voice come out of her mouth. Her face flushed red - Ignis was pretty sure he could  _ hear _ her hands shaking - but she swallowed and gathered herself with Fran’s words in her mind. With that strength tucked away, she was able to continue. 

“The bacon is too dark, and too greasy. It needs to be drained properly before we serve it!” Garnet’s voice was kind but firm as she laid out her expectations for her team.

Garnet barely bit back a noise as Ramsay suddenly appeared over her shoulder.  Hesitantly she glanced back at him, only to be met with a short nod.

“You heard her - the bacon isn’t right; fix it!” Ramsay’s voice fell more on the side of “firm” as he examined their work.  “Sharp as a dagger, this one. Listen to her!”

He walked away quickly as Weskham moved to correct his error. “More bacon, less cooking,” he said. “My apologies - two minutes, Garnet!”

There was a soft, excited whisper that nobody but Ignis heard as he prepared the next fried egg: “ _ He called me a dagger! _ ”

Ignis was thankful that aside from their first hiccup, they had no other major problems. They were fluid and vocal after the initial reluctance to speak up, and they could barely hear the other team over their own shouts across the kitchen. But during quiet lulls where they worked on their own items, Ignis found himself listening to the other side of the kitchen. He heard Coctura trying to lead, but Aranea was completely steamrolling her when it wasn't enough for her. 

“Team,” the young woman called. “Where are we on dishes?” Though she was friendly and warm, she only received a half-hearted murmur from a few of her team members. They hadn't responded as she'd wanted, and Coctura felt a flare of frustration.

Aranea had had enough.

“ _ Status report!”  _ she barked over Coctura. It got her surprised and flustered answers, but it clearly was needed as nobody had been responding up until then. And now she had a sense of where they were.

But this wasn't okay. 

“Balthier!” Her voice was sharp. “For a leading man you sure have nothing to say!”

Balthier was clearly biting back his own temper before he responded. “Heard,” he gritted out. “I'll endeavor to respond the way you deem necessary.”

Interestingly Ignis heard a small noise from Fran. What was that about? Was she focused on her dish and chunnering to herself, or reacting to the events? He wasn't sure and Coctura’s voice distracted him. 

“Aranea, it's okay,” Coctura said. “We don't need -”

“What we  _ need  _ is to know where the food is,” Aranea cut in, firm and steady but not unkind. “You need to be more direct, Coctura.” Her past in the military came out as she instructed the other woman, and Ignis couldn't spare another moment for them as he listened to his own team.

Garnet, in turn, was taking to leading like a fish to water, making sure each dish was immaculate before she allowed it to leave the kitchen. With how well the team worked together, they cleared their dishes with few problems once Weskham got a sense of what he was doing with the bacon. 

“Final table!” Ramsay called out as the doors swung open again.

“We can do this, team!” Garnet called as she received the final ticket. “Two chicken kale rice bowls and a BLT!”

Their entire team responded, shouting back to the point that the other team was completely lost in the sound.

“Now  _ that  _ is what a kitchen should sound like!” Ramsay shouted to them as he strode to the blue team’s kitchen to check on them. It made Garnet swell with pride to know that her team was up to snuff.

“My team, we are so close!” she said, clearly falling excitedly into her role now. “One last table! Make it your best!”

“Yes, Garnet!” Ignis shouted as he prepared the final egg.

Only when the plate was deemed perfect did Garnet let it leave the kitchen. Almost instantly Ignis felt an enormous strain leave his shoulders and he blew out a relieved breath. He could hear the rest of his team chattering and he smiled as he began to clean his station.

He was stopped by a soft, gentle hand touching his. Short nails grazed his hand as fingers moved to close around his and he was left in a brief state of uncertainty as he had no idea who was touching him. Ignis tried not to flinch, but he felt as if he were standing on unsteady ground with no guess as to who was before him. Old habits died hard and he swallowed down the burst of trepidation.

“Ignis,” his captain spoke, and he had never heard her sound so proud. “Come with us. Chef Ramsay says it's time to meet the diners we cooked for.” Garnet was practically glowing just by the sound of her voice alone and for a moment he wished he could see her smile - just to see how proud of herself she was.

Ignis turned to where he knew Monica to be, outside of the kitchen, and he gave her a little smile. “I believe I will let my captain guide me to the dining room,” he said, and Monica chuckled.

“I will stay close if I'm needed then,” was all she said. 

“Oh captain, my captain,” Ignis said fondly to Garnet. “Lead the way.”

She giggled, and for a moment she sounded so carefree as she linked their arms and carefully led him to the dining room doors where the rest of the team waited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with this, Mythril Chef is over a year old! How did that happen? Thanks for all your support everyone! <3 we might be...at about the halfway point? Hard to tell at this point haha. My notes are sort of unclear and things keep getting added. I feel like I'm writing One Piece or something.


	19. Winner and Elimination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The winner of the line challenge is announced, and an elimination is announced as well.

The doors swung open with a creak and Ignis felt Garnet tense reflexively as the sounds of people chattering and Ramsay’s voice could be heard.

“Don’t be afraid,” Ignis found himself murmuring to her, leaning down to be heard as they began to walk into the dining room.  “You’ve led us well today, no matter how things turn out.”

Garnet’s muscles released slowly and Ignis heard her shaky breath.  “I did my best,” she managed to say after a moment. “I have no regrets.”

“Good,” Ignis whispered back, but stopped talking as they took their places and Ramsay spoke.

“Ah, Ignis?  My Dagger? If you two are quite done - ”  But Ignis heard the fond tone to his voice - “we’d like to announce the winning team.”

Ignis and Garnet both apologized, properly chagrined, but there was no real sense of annoyance from anyone - just good old fashioned anticipation.  Garnet released Ignis’ arm to press her hands together as if in prayer and Ignis laced his fingers together behind his back. In a few moments they would know who had been victorious…

“The winning team, by just a  _ few _ votes,” Tosi began, and Ignis’ heart leapt into his throat.  It had been that close, then? Only a few votes separated top from bottom.  Nobody had been particularly bad, then. But who would win it all? Who had captured the taste buds of their audience?  

Sánchez burst out with the answer: “The red team!”

Garnet gasped aloud as the people in the room began to clap for them.  She had been proud of their performance, of course, but to be declared the winners was an honor.

“That’s our captain!” Weskham declared proudly, and Ignis leaned in to speak softly as further encouragement.

“Well done, my captain,” he whispered, and Garnet giggled with pride.  It was a lovely, carefree sound.

For once, Ignis let go of his self-consciousness about being on TV.  He was so pulled into the moment and the high of winning that he wasn’t thinking about the cameras, the crowd, or what they were thinking about him with his scars and long cane.  He simply  _ felt _ the pride of a job well done.

* * *

The cameras didn’t capture the time it took for them to clean the kitchens; it wasn’t a glamourous task and Ignis knew nobody would be dying to watch it.  He was currently scrubbing down the pans they had used when he heard voices from the other kitchen.

“So, they’ll be eliminating one of us, then,” Balthier said lowly.

“Well, we lost, so that’s how it goes,” Aranea snapped back.  Ignis could tell she was tense; despite being a strong performer it hadn’t been enough to pull them through.  She had tried to rescue her foundering team and had missed it by a mere handful of votes.

“I wonder who’s gonna go,” Cindy said softly.

Ignis wasn’t sure if the ensuing silence was because he couldn’t hear their voices over the running water, or if it was because they simply had nothing to say in response.

* * *

A few hours later they were back in the Masterchef kitchen and dressed in regular clothes once more, their whites hung up for the next team challenge.  They all filed in, the jubilant air from before dissipating under the tense fog - now they knew someone would be going home.

When they approached the front stage, Sánchez spoke.  “You all did  _ incredibly  _ well for your first time running a line.  Today’s decision was an incredibly hard one.”

Knowing it had been so close would be a cold comfort to the one going home, Ignis figured.

“Red team - Ignis, Fran, Weskham, and Garnet,” Tosi said.  “You four won with a majority of our votes tonight. Please head to the balcony; you are safe from elimination.”

Ignis waited until his teammates had passed before taking Monica’s arm and following them upstairs to the balcony.  Nobody spoke as they walked, everyone curious and contemplative over who would be eliminated.

Once they were positioned upstairs, Ramsay continued the proceedings.  “If we call your name, step forward.” He paused. “Aranea. Balthier.”

The two stepped forward silently as they were beckoned, and there was another agonizing pause.  “Aranea. You leapt into action when your team started to sink. And you managed to get some answers from them when they went silent.  Well done.”

“Thank you, Chef,” Aranea responded evenly.

“Balthier.  You did well with your station.  And though your voice isn’t where it should be...you did demonstrate some.”  Tosi addressed the self-proclaimed leading man, though when he spoke it was clear he was less than happy with his own performance.

“Thank you, Chef,” he said, his voice slightly strained.

“Tonight, the two of you…”  Sánchez looked between them, tattooed fingers laced together and resting on his chin for a long moment.  “...did enough to save yourselves. You are safe from elimination; please go to the balcony.”

Aranea exhaled and tilted her head back.   _ She had pulled through. _  Hands in pockets, she made for the balcony with Balthier following silently behind her.

The chefs turned to the two remaining: Cindy and Coctura.

“Ladies,” Tosi said as she looked between them.  “This was not an easy decision. Coctura, you were team captain, but your team didn’t respond to you.  What happened?”

Coctura looked down at the ground, hands clutched together in front of her.  “I lost my voice,” she said simply. “I should have made it clearer what I needed from them, and I let us down.”

Ramsay said nothing as he turned to Cindy.  “And you, my dear. I barely heard your voice at all.  You were on point, but near-silent. What happened there?”

Cindy sighed and raked a hand through her hair.  “I jus’ get in my zone,” she said, “but I get now that don’t help on a team.”

Both women seemed to know their weak points, and Ignis imagined that made the decision even harder.

“The person going home tonight,” Ramsay said, steepling his fingers and resting them against his lips, “is…”

There was no sound for a long few moments.

“...Cindy.”

“Oh no,” Garnet whispered from beside Ignis.  She knew that someone would have to go home, but…

Sánchez turned to her.  “Cindy. It definitely wasn’t an easy choice.  But you hit the nail on the head - you can’t be silent when you’re on a team.  You’re a fantastic home cook, but you didn’t communicate with your team. You can’t adjust and respond as needed if you’re not talking.”

“Aw, shoot,” Cindy sighed.  She’d seen it coming, but some part of her prayed desperately to be wrong.  But what they said was fair, and she knew it. “Yeah, I getcha.”

“Please, say goodbye to Coctura, and place your apron on your bench,” Ramsay said.

The two women exchanged a brief hug, Coctura whispering wishes of good luck and Cindy thanking her.  As Cindy pulled away and began to unlace her apron, she smiled up at the rest of the contestants.

“This ain’t the last you’re gonna hear from me!” she promised.  “You’re gonna hear the name Cindy Aurum again, I promise!”

The contestants on the balcony began to clap, Coctura joining them as she tottered quickly up the stairs.  “Looking forward to it, darling,” Balthier called as Cindy left her apron on her bench and walked towards the doors.

Cindy waved as she left, the doors swinging shut behind her with a final thud.  Ignis lowered his hand from waving when he heard the doors close, fingers curling around the railing.

Now they were down to seven.  He was surprised at how hard each elimination was, hearing someone’s dream end right before him.  But Cindy had never let the smile slip, her promise to return to the world of cooking fresh in his mind and his ears.  And he had no doubts that she would do it.

If he didn’t go all the way...could he be like that?

He wasn’t sure, and right now, Ignis was worried that it might be a very real possibility that he had to face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience with me, and I hope you're not too disappointed to see Cindy go! It was hard to eliminate her.
> 
> I've had a burst of creative energy lately, so hopefully there will be more soon!


	20. In a Pinch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the elimination, Ignis has to sit through another interview with Ardyn. Then, the next Mystery Box challenge is announced...and it puts the competitors in a bit of a pinch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tend to write shorter interim chapters as a way to buffer the cooking chapters, because those get ridiculously long if I let them. I hope that doesn't bother anyone too much; it helps me think things through better for cooking.

Once Cindy had been dismissed, people were chosen to speak for the cutaway interviews: Garnet and Coctura, as team captains (especially Coctura, as she’d been on the chopping block); Aranea as the one who’d stepped in to rescue her tea; Fran as the one who had been the loudest in her kitchen…

...and, Ignis.  With Izunia.

Again.

“So, your team has come through a successful challenge,” he said to Ignis.  “And how have you been handling things?”

It was a lob of a pitch, but Ignis began to wonder if he was overthinking everything that Izunia said.  Ignis was already crafting an answer that was warm but not too personal. He’d resolved to be more open after their breakfast together, but something about Izunia made him uncomfortable, like he’d stepped onto ice with no traction.  And if he wasn’t careful, he might slip and crack the thin ice beneath him.

“Running a line was an invigorating challenge,” he replied easily.  “Our captain led us to victory.”

“Yes, Ms. Alexandros certainly did.”  Ardyn let the words roll smoothly off his tongue.  “It seems you’ve been quite encouraging to her, Mr. Scientia.”

Alarm bells began to ding softly in Ignis’ mind - not full-on klaxons, not yet, but enough to remind him to mind his wording.  “She’s a strong leader in her own right,” he said as an evasion. Maybe he was being overly paranoid, but he spun his thoughts with care so that they couldn’t string together words they wanted to make him say later.

“Hmm.”  Ardyn made a thoughtful noise in return.  “I see. Ignis, describe your experience in the Giza Plains Hotel kitchen, won’t you?  I hear it was quite cramped.”

Ignis’ molars pressed together.  Again he was being goaded into telling the story that Ardyn wanted, and he was loath to give him any part of that.

But he had to say  _ something. _  “We all work fluidly enough to not get in each other’s way,” he retorted, warm and a bit brighter than usual.

“Hmm, yes, your teamwork was impeccable.”  Ardyn sounded less than pleased with Ignis’ answer; frankly, Ignis was exhausted from the mental gymnastics as well.  “Just one more question for you then, Ignis.” He paused, though barely long enough to let Ignis brace. “I’d love to hear your prediction for our next Masterchef.”

Ignis flinched.  He should have known to prepare for the question.  He’d been lucky to avoid it thus far, but now it was staring him dead in the face.

Did he declare it to be himself and let Ardyn paint him as an arrogant narcissist?  Did he lift up a team member and open the door for further probing?

No.  He couldn’t let Ardyn continue to have power over him like this.  Ignis forced a smile and decided  _ to hell with it. _  “Well,” he finally said.  “I certainly hope it will be me.”

The delighted little roll to Ardyn’s voice made Ignis wonder if he’d made a mistake.  “Well,” he retorted. “We shall see, won’t we?”

_ Won’t we, indeed. _

* * *

A few uneventful days passed before the next day of filming, though Ignis couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d said - which, he was now sure, the other man wanted.  Had he said too much? Not enough?

Was he just genuinely overthinking?

It was a few restless nights where Ignis genuinely had no idea.

Ignis didn’t hear much from his fellow competitors until the next filming day - no “getting to know you” dinners or anything like that - though he did pass a few from time to time in the halls.  They always greeted each other fondly; Ignis and Balthier had even developed a running joke where they greeted each other by the other person’s name thanks to Ramsay’s pointing out how similar they looked.  But it was never more than a passing chat.

Still, it made things a little less lonely.  After Cindy’s departure, Ignis had begun to think more critically about whether or not he should continue to be friendly towards the others.  Ardyn’s comments to him during the interview combined with his own nerves made Ignis wonder if he was doomed to solitude during production.

He still didn’t have an answer when they made their way into the kitchen for the next challenge a few days later.  But the way he’d been warmly greeted by both Garnet and Balthier as they were all miked and prepped indicated that he needed to have a good think before writing off camaraderie completely.

“Welcome back, home cooks!” Tosi warmly greeted everyone.

“Wow, don’t you all look refreshed and relaxed,”  Sánchez teased.  They all chuckled in return...until Ramsay spoke.

“You certainly won’t be looking that way after today’s elimination challenge,” he said, voice more than a little ominous.  “Head to your stations!”

Monica was by Ignis’ side and guiding him there around the movement of the other competitors.  “There’s a large, brown box,” was all she said. She and Ignis both knew that meant another Mystery Box challenge, but she wasn’t allowed to confirm it until the chefs did.

“Today’s Mystery Box challenge might put you in a bit of a pinch,” Ramsay grinned.  Something about the way he said that made Ignis more than a little apprehensive. “Lift your boxes!”

Ignis gripped the edges of his wooden box and lifted, stunned when he heard...clicking?

Monica leaned in with more urgency than she usually held.  “Ignis, reach in carefully. You have live crabs.”

Distantly Ignis heard Aranea muttering from behind him.  “What the fuck?” she demanded of nobody in particular, and between the clicking of the crabs the only thing that Ignis could think was:  _ They’re going to have to censor that. _

_ In a pinch, indeed. _


End file.
